Trials of the Changing Heart
by Nephrite Eyes
Summary: Life in Ancient Egypt is hard for a tomb robber. Caring about anyone but yourself is practically suicide. Which causes Bakura to question his sanity when he accidentally runs into a boy called Ryou; who changes his entire life. BakuraxRyou. PG13 later on.
1. The Meeting

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh or any of its characters. I do, however, own the plot to this fic; so you can't take it.  
  
A/N: Since this fic takes place in Ancient Egypt, no one who normally has an accent has their accent (e.g. Ryou doesn't have his English accent). Also, almost everyone in the show will show up at some point or time, even if they weren't actually originally around in Ancient Egypt. (e.g. Malik is mentioned in this chapter and plays quite a large part in chapters two and on.) Finally; the title has nothing to do with the Duel Monsters card Change of Heart.  
  
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Trials of the Changing Heart  
  
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Bakura paused for moment when he caught sight of the early evening light streaming through the tomb entrance, about twenty paces in front of him. He sighed in relief and ran a hand through his hair. He'd thought he'd never get out of here! Whatever rich stiff was here, he'd wanted his final resting place built to the equivalent of a children's wall maze. Truth be told, Bakura had felt like a stupid rat throughout this entire trip. But now, with freedom clearly in sight, all his anger slowly dissipated.  
  
He unslung the linen sac from his back and began feeling around in it for anything that felt as if it might be worth something. He also took a mental tally of his haul, just to make sure he hadn't dropped anything while weaving his way through hundreds of compact, oddly shaped tunnels.  
  
Bakura's fingers rested on something with a rather round shape, that felt unusual to the touch. Not soft and cool like gold, or warped and splintered, like wood. No, this was something different. He took it out of the sac and saw it was a sort of pottery; a jar, decorated with a painted face.  
  
The tomb robber had a feeling he knew what this was, but he just had to check. He raised the jar to his nose and removed the lid, sniffing for odours from within the jar.  
  
Bakura blanched and quickly turned his head away from the container, re- lidding it. This was an organ jar! Bakura scrunched his nose in distaste and he held the jar out at arms' length. It was worth staying in his haul, but he wouldn't be able to get much money for it if it still had that stench in it. But Bakura knew what he was doing. He'd think of something to fix the jar later. Right now, getting out of the musty tomb was first on his priority list.  
  
The young tomb robber muffled a cough as dust from the ancient sandstone hallway settled in his lungs. He returned the organ jar to his bag and headed stealthily towards the exit, just a few feet away.  
  
Right at the entrance, he turned and stared down the abysmally dark tunnel he'd just been through. He sneered. Whoever that bastard had been, he'd been in there for a long time. And he'd wanted to make sure that he'd go to the afterlife with all his worldly possessions, too. All those tunnels and hallways.those trap doors and the swallowing darkness. It was clear the man had anticipated a tomb robber's raid. But that wasn't enough to unnerve Bakura.  
  
However, it did take the cake on Bakura's list of 'damnable potential pay- offs'. He scowled and made his way out into the light...and out of safety.  
  
Evening was in its earliest stages. The sand beneath Bakura's feet was cooling with the setting of the hellish sun, the air in his lungs was becoming more refreshing. No longer muggy and humid. It was the best possible time for Bakura to run his almost-daily route. But still, he regretted not bringing a covering for his head. The sun was still in the sky, and its heat burned the tomb robber's face and head. He knew that later, he would bear the hellish disk's angry mark.  
  
Bakura snaked his way behind a small sand dune and shrugged the sac from off his back once more, depositing it next to him. He ran a hand through his silvery, semi-spiked hair, scowling at the thick locks. It wasn't that he disliked his hair; quite on the contrary; he thought it was quite becoming. The problem was; it made him stand out. As a friend had once told him; his hair 'shone like spun silver on desert sand'. (He'd then proceeded to break his friend's jaw for saying something like that.in the tone he'd said it..and in public, too!)  
  
The ability to stand out in a crowd wasn't a preferable attribute to possess, especially by a known tomb robber. Bakura was already fairly infamous within the surrounding twenty miles, and most people would recognize him as who he was on first sight. So he had to be careful.  
  
His job had become even more dangerous in the past few weeks. Bakura had had the dumb luck of running into his friend while coming back from a heist, right in the middle of his comrade stealing half the merchandise from the majority of street-side businesses, and had invited Bakura to join him. They'd been seen stealing, and now every official within the surrounding five towns was patrolling the streets and surrounding areas for Bakura and his friend.  
  
Bakura surveyed the terrain around him, and found it clear, save for an asp and a couple of scorpions searching for a place to retire for the oncoming night.  
  
He grabbed his haul and jogged out from behind the dune. A soft sweeping sound made him pause for a fraction of a second, then he broke into a full run. Four years of experience as a tomb robber gave the sixteen year old an ear for danger. A half-second later, an arrow skewered the sandy spot where he'd just been standing.  
  
Bakura didn't look back. He just kept running, trying desperately to keep his footing in the soft sand and still hold onto his heavy haul of stolen items. He heard an arrow hiss through the air beside him, and he zigzagged back and forth. It proved a good choice in move, since a total of seven arrows struck sand that bore his footprint.  
  
He risked a look behind him while on the summit of a large dune, hoping to catch a glimpse of how far ahead of the soldier he was. Bakura caught a glimpse of honey-coloured hair, and cursed under his breath. It was the same soldier who's seen him and his friend Malik stealing from those merchants! A young soldier..Jounouchi, he believed it was. Ah well, it didn't matter what his name was! If he was caught, he wouldn't stand a chance against execution.  
  
It was at that precise moment that Bakura's footing slipped, and he went tumbling head over heals down the dune, finally slamming into something that caused his descent to stop.  
  
He brought himself up to his hands and knees and, after hurriedly checking to see that his haul was alright, looked to see what had stopped him. A boy, about his age, was beneath him, staring up at Bakura with a dazed look.  
  
Bakura's mind raced as he stared back down at the boy in pure rage. There was no way he could leave the boy here! He'd tell the soldier about him, without a doubt. There was only one other option.  
  
Bakura grabbed the boy's hand in a death grip and pulled him to his feet. "If you make a sound, just one little sound; I will kill you." He told the shorter boy. Large brown eyes widened in fright, but no sound came from the boy's mouth as he merely nodded his understanding.  
  
Bakura sighed in frustration. Nothing was going his way today.  
  
He pulled the other boy along by his wrist, over dunes and around the odd half-dead tree or bush. Instinct told Bakura to keep running, but his body screamed for him to stop. The combined weight of carrying his haul from the tomb and pulling the reluctant boy along was weighing him down, and he knew that this chase wouldn't last for much longer.  
  
The soldier's cries for him to stop running and give himself up could clearly be heard in the dead air. He couldn't be any more than one hundred paces back, just behind that dune that Bakura and his unwilling companion had just climbed over.  
  
Bakura looked behind him again. It seemed clear, save the duo's own footprints, but Bakura knew better. The heat from the sun caused Bakura to pant, trying to swallow some cool air. He could hear the other boy behind him, gasping for breath while stumbling to keep up with Bakura's break-neck pace.  
  
The silver haired tomb robber redirected his gaze to the front and saw what could be called nothing less than a miracle sent by the Gods. A muddy, slow moving river. Bakura couldn't think of a better hiding place if he tried!  
  
He brought himself and the other boy to the riverbank and paused to suck in as much air into his lungs as he could.  
  
"What are you doing?!" He heard the other boy screech in fear.  
  
Bakura scowled. 'I thought I told him not to speak...' He thought to himself. He decided to let that one slip. With one swift movement, he brought the smaller boy in front of him and pressed the newcomer's back to his chest. Bakura wrapped an arm firmly round the other boy's waist, and gripped the haul of gold and pottery tightly in his free hand. With that, he made a running start and jumped into the murky waters of the river.  
  
It worked precisely as Bakura had imagined. The boy was kept still and hidden from sight underneath Bakura, unable to alert the soldier chasing them of their position, willingly or not, and the heavy linen sac was grounding the both of them to the river bottom, only a few feet below the surface, but still fully concealed by the mud and sand swirling around them.  
  
Bakura felt the boy beneath him squirm and writhe in his grip, but he didn't let go. There was no way he was going to let this kid give away his position. He just hoped the boy had had enough sense to swallow some air. And to keep his mouth shut. One little air bubble could be a giant 'come and get me' sign for the young soldier tracking him down.  
  
He shut his eyes tightly to prevent grains of sand from the dirty river from getting in them. But still, Bakura listened intently for sound from above the surface while ignoring the screams from his lungs for new, fresh air.  
  
He suddenly felt the water being disturbed, and a searing pain in his left arm. Bakura's eyes shot open, but only for a second. The discomfort of sand and mud caused him to shut them again quickly.  
  
Bakura's mind became frenzied as his mind went into overdrive. His arm had been caught by one of the soldier' arrows. If he saw the blood, he'd know their position in the water! He had to cover his arm! But in order to do that, he'd have to let go of the boy! If he did that, the other would try to swim to the surface, giving away his position anyway! He was stuck between a rock and a hard place.  
  
Suddenly, Bakura felt pressure on his cut. He recognized the shape of the applied pressure to be a hand. The boy was covering his cut for him, so the blood wouldn't leak and tell their position? Bakura smiled a bit and thanked the Gods, despite himself. Looked like the kid was quick to catch on, thank Ra.  
  
Bakura could hear the soldier's receding steps, but still he waited. His lungs screamed protest and he could feel the boy beneath him going limp. He hesitated, but finally released the boy, sending him up to the water's surface. Bakura himself clung to the linen sac with all its treasures, and pushed off from the bottom, propelling himself to the surface.  
  
He broke the surface of the water noisily, and took in a giant gulp of wonderful, beautiful, live-giving air. Bakura whipped his head around, looking for the boy, only to see him coughing up water on the riverbank. Bakura sighed and began paddling towards shore. He slipped a couple of times going up the riverside, but eventually managed to pull himself up, dragging his linen sac with him.  
  
Bakura collapsed beside the smaller boy. He flipped his muddy bangs out of his face and turned to the other, who was still spitting out the murky river water. There didn't seem to be any point to telling the boy not to run anywhere; he didn't look as though he could if he wanted to.  
  
The coughing was agitating Bakura, and he scowled, glaring sideways at the boy, covered from head to toe in mud from the river bottom. Bakura sighed and slammed the palm of his hand to the center of the boy's back. A yelp and a cough later, and the smaller of the two teens was gasping for air..and one gallon shorter on water.  
  
Evening was at its prime, now. The horizon sported a half-sun, surrounded by pink and purple clouds. High in the sky, stars could be seen strewn carelessly across the navy coloured expanse. But clouds were coming in. Soon the stars would be lost; veiled behind a blanket of darkness, their beacon gone.  
  
Bakura sat up and shook his head vehemently, spraying the other teen with mud and dirty water. He turned to his sodden linen sac and sighed. Half the stuff in there had to be ruined by now.  
  
He began rooting through it, searching for anything broken and disposing of it by flinging it behind him. It was then that Bakura caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. It was the other boy, crawling towards the river.  
  
Bakura unsheathed a dagger that hung from a tie around his waist and scrambled towards the boy. "And what do you think you're doing, boy?" He growled menacingly, glaring down at the mud soaked figure before him. He placed the edge of the dagger against the boy's neck, ready to slash it open the second he made a wrong move.  
  
The boy flipped his muddy bangs out of his face and met Bakura's gaze, but not with ferocity. His eyes were soft and gentle, and gave Bakura the distinct impression that this was not someone who could even kill a fly. "I- I'm sorry. I was just going to wash off." The boy said quietly, peering up at Bakura almost shyly.  
  
Silence hung in the air before Bakura stepped away from the boy, much to his own surprise. "Don't be long." He muttered to the other, returning to his business of salvaging his earlier catch. "And don't think of running off somewhere..there's not a town for miles. And besides, you wouldn't make it ten paces." He told the other, glaring at him again through sodden bangs.  
  
The boy nodded and seemed to realize and accept the insinuation. He got to his feet and walked quickly to the river, only to hesitate. Bakura sighed and turned to look at the boy in exasperation. "What's wrong? I thought you were going to clean yourself off." He said accusingly. The boy turned to him with a scared look.  
  
"There's an alligator staring at me..." He told Bakura softly, staring at him with unbearably innocent eyes.  
  
"Oh, for the love of.." Bakura ran a hand through his hair. He then realized how stupid that had been, and flicked his hand to rid himself of the excess mud. He really didn't want to watch as the alligator make his new companion dinner, so he opted for the nicer method. Bakura wasn't very accustomed to being nice so he wasn't very good at it. However, he believed he'd got the point across.  
  
He removed one of the three water casks from his waist and flung it at the boy, hitting him in the rear with it. The boy yelped and jumped a bit, rubbing where the container had hit. He picked it up, however, and uncorked it.  
  
Bakura looked back to see the smaller teen taking a swig from the cask. "Why the hell aren't you cleaning yourself off?! That's why I gave you the water in the first place!" He yelled shrilly, anger boiling up inside him. This boy was trouble, he just knew it.  
  
"I'm sorry" The boy said, wiping his mouth. " I haven't had a drink all day." He informed Bakura apologetically. Those large, chocolate coloured eyes locked with Bakura's own hardened brown eyes. He quirked an eyebrow slightly as he noted that the other boy's eye colour was exactly the same as his.  
  
Bakura felt his rage waning away, and he snorted quietly. "Just wash up." He ordered the boy, going back to unloading the items in the bag and laying them out for inspection.  
  
He made two piles; one for anything that could bring in good money, and another that couldn't be considered anything more than trash, or could be sold for dirt-low prices. Then he spotted a rather nice looking gold statue of a cat, and decided to make a third pile; things he wanted for himself.  
  
Five minutes into his sorting, he had four statues, three perfume bottles (it was amazing that any had survived out of the original seven he'd had), two wooden figurines, three nice pairs of gold and turquoise earrings, and a scarab-shaped ring in the 'to be sold at murderous prices' pile. He also had a bunch of wooden shit in the other pile(most of it was fine now, but would be warped in a few days from their dunk in the river), and his cat statue and a new snake shaped arm bracelet at his side.  
  
"What are you doing, if it's any of my business?" A soft voice asked. Bakura jumped at the break of silence and turned to the other boy, scowling.  
  
The scowl was wiped off his face as his jaw dropped in disbelief. The smaller boy was looking at him with a picture of pure innocent curiosity, large brown eyes looking at Bakura hauntingly. The boy, though looking about Bakura's age, gave the appearance of being quite fragile. The boy's skin was pale, and he looked fairly malnourished. Bakura could count every one of the boy's ribs.  
  
Thin scars criss-crossed the boy's torso and shoulders, and what he could see of his back, as well. Some were white and clean looking, obviously old and long past healed. Others were still pink, a few even red, and raw around the edge. Bakura knew these types of scars by heart. He himself bore a few here and there. They were whip marks.  
  
He swallowed a bunch of saliva that had suddenly collected in his mouth and stared at the boy. But it wasn't any of that that really shocked Bakura. It was the boy's hair colour: silver. Almost the exact same colour as his own. Just a few shades lighter.  
  
"Why is your hair like that?" Bakura demanded harshly, staring the smaller boy down.  
  
The other blinked innocently. "Well, if you must know, I inherited it from my mother...she was albino." The boy told Bakura sweetly, returning the gaze and snapping Bakura's hostility in half because of it.  
  
'Albino, huh? Well, that explains it. But albinos are extremely rare..there's more to this kid than he's dishing out.' Bakura concluded silently. He scowled and decided to interrogate the boy for information later. He just really didn't feel like it now.  
  
"Um..why is _your_ hair like that?" The smaller boy implored politely. "I mean, well, I've never seen anyone else with hair like mine.." He conceded, twisting his hands together nervously when he realized that Bakura's eyes were still on him.  
  
"..Just born like this. No real reason." Bakura admitted gruffly.  
  
Why was he answering this kid's questions? He didn't have to do a damn thing for this brat! Hell, it would've been easier to have just killed the kid on sight. But something prevented Bakura from doing that. Some strange pang that rose from deep inside him and made his chest constrict.  
  
'Maybe he's some sort of sorcerer.' Bakura guessed, trying to explain away the strange feeling. 'Yeah, that's it. He probably just cast some sort of weird spell on me.'  
  
He didn't believe himself. That wasn't even close to the truth, and he knew it. But the feeling was totally foreign, and some sort of explanation was better than none.  
  
"So..my name's Ryou! What's yours?" The boy asked pleasantly, smiling softly at Bakura.  
  
"..." The tomb robber didn't have to answer him. Besides, it was a potential mistake. What if the boy escaped, and told some soldier his name..? But one glance into Ryou's soulful, sincere eyes seemed to wipe the doubt slate clean. "Bakura." He said warily.  
  
"Bakura? Well Bakura, it nice to meet you!"  
  
Bakura quirked an eyebrow at the boy. "Are you insane, or just foolish?" He asked in mild surprise.  
  
Ryou looked at him in confusion and hurt. "Neither. Why would you ask something like that?"  
  
"You just said 'it's nice to meet you'. Now, in case you haven't noticed; I've kidnapped you, threatened you, almost drowned you.and threatened you. Again. Were you not paying attention?" He asked, his voice shrill.  
  
" I was just trying to be polite." Ryou said apologetically. He looked down at the ground dejectedly, and something Bakura made him want to do something to stop Ryou from being so sad. But, I'd rather be with you than anyone else, you know!" He said brightly, smiling at Bakura.  
  
Heat flushed to the tomb robber's face, and he wondered why, since the dusk was cool. "Why would you say something like that?" Bakura demanded gruffly, gathering up everything on the ground in front of him and shoving it back into the linen sac.  
  
"Because.. I don't have anyone else." Ryou said softly. Bakura wanted to run away screaming. A foreign feeling bubbled up inside him, and it was telling him 'do something to comfort him. Now.'. Bakura suddenly found a blade of grass very interesting, but he couldn't resist asking-- "Why not?"  
  
He regretted asking when Ryou's eyes teared up, and the strange feeling simmering inside Bakura rose to a full boil.  
  
"I was a slave, until yesterday." He said, pausing to look solemnly at Bakura. The tomb robber was about to congratulate the boy on winning his freedom, but Ryou continued, seeming to know what Bakura was going to say. "I should still be one...but I'm not, all because of my friends. Well, they were my friends." Ryou said, his quiet voice trembling.  
  
Bakura listened intently, even if he didn't show it. 'So, this kid made it out, too. Must be stronger than I thought.' He noted mentally, glancing sideways at Ryou.  
  
"But they were caught helping me." Ryou admitted silently. He rubbed at his eyes and sniffled quietly. Bakura ignored the signs of weakness and waited for the other to continue his story. "I watched, in hiding, as the Pharaoh himself killed all my friends! He just.. murdered them, all of them, without even blinking. It was horrible. But, I knew I had to get away fast, because they'd be looking for me, so I ran out here.I thought I was going to die right there, where you found me and pulled me along." Ryou told him. Bakura silently sympathized for Ryou, then reprimanded himself for doing so.  
  
This boy was weak! He couldn't even watch someone be killed!  
  
...But they had been his friends.  
  
He couldn't even walk one day in the desert!  
  
..It can be hellishly hot. People can die in a matter of hours. He lasted a long time, considering.  
  
But then something struck Bakura as being very odd. "Why would you think they'd be looking for you? Slaves-"  
  
Bakura watched as Ryou flinched when he said that word. He really couldn't blame him' it brought back bad memories for him, too. But he refused to go soft. Sympathy got you killed. Caring got you killed. But still...just one question. "Slaves are never missed. Just replaced. Why would they be searching for you?" He demanded coldly, his eyes searching Ryou's.  
  
A guarded look came over the smaller boy's face as he answered Bakura. " Because the Pharaoh said I was one of his favourites...and that I 'must be brought back at all costs'." He informed Bakura, his voice full of hatred that seemed out of place on Ryou's innocent features.  
  
The tomb robber's eyes widened. So this boy, Ryou..was one of the Pharaoh's personal slaves? Sympathy flooded Bakura; for he knew what the Pharaoh did to his slaves. It was the same as what the High Priest did to his. And those were unspeakable things.  
  
But still; sympathy got you killed, so Bakura forced it all down and placed his mask back on before he let something slip.  
  
Ryou was crying now. Tears streamed down his face, leaving dark streaks on the already damp, pale skin. Silent sobs wracked his delicate frame, and he hid his face behind a veil of thick silver hair.  
  
Bakura refused to go soft. Caring got you killed..he had to keep repeating that. If he showed compassion, it would be showing weakness; and people took advantage of weaknesses.  
  
Clearing his throat, Bakura rose to his feet and slung his damp linen sac onto his back. "Get up." He ordered Ryou, kicking him swiftly in the shins to get his full attention. Ryou recoiled slightly from the blow, but got up. He looked at the tomb robber imploringly? W-wouldn't it be safer to stay here for the night? I mean...it's dangerous to travel at night, isn't it?" He asked frantically, his eyes wide.  
  
"It's more dangerous to stay put, what with both of us being hunted down." He reasoned, turning back to the smaller boy. "So let's get going before someone finds us. Hurry up!" He barked at Ryou.  
  
Ryou ran to Bakura's side and whimpered softly. "What is _wrong_ with you?" Bakura demanded harshly. "Afraid of the dark or something?" He asked sarcastically. He could see Ryou nod affirmatively through the almost pitch- black of the moonless night.  
  
Bakura snorted contemptuously. "Would it help if I held your hand?" He asked patronizingly.  
  
The tomb robber felt a blush creep across his face as he felt a delicate hand slip timidly through his own and curl their fingers together. Bakura grew rigid as heat rose to his face. He made a mental note never to be sarcastic around Ryou.  
  
He also made a note to check on his arm in the morning to see if the gash on it had become infected.  
  
They walked in silence for what must have been no more than two minutes before Ryou's voice broke the silence that fell on the two travelers like a damp velvet sheet. "Where are we going?" He asked quietly.  
  
Bakura paused for a moment, considering how smart it would be to actually go to his intended destination with Ryou.  
  
"Bakura?"  
  
"A friend. We're going to visit a friend of mine." He replied. 'I really hope I don't regret this.' He thought as they continued on, walking willingly into the oppressive silence and darkness of a moonless, starless night.  
  
  
  
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End Chapter 1 ______  
  
  
  
Please Review. I'm not going to continue the fic if I don't get any reviews for it. 


	2. Safe Haven And A Superstition

Disclaimer: As before; I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh. However, I do own the plot to this fic; so you can't take it.  
  
A/N: Thank you, to all those who reviewed. You've all contributed to the inflation of my now almost-insusceptible ego. I'd like to inform you all that family ties from the show don't apply here, so don't start ranting in a review that Isis should still be Malik's older sister. And in this fic, Bakura is a year older than Ryou. Don't demand an answer; I just couldn't make them the same age, for some reason. Also, please don't flame for spelling errors or grammar mistakes. There's something wrong with my computer, and it's messing up my files. If you see any errors, please just mention them in a review and I'll try to correct them, since I can't stand spelling/grammar errors. Thank you.  
  
  
  
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"Are you sure we won't be disturbing him?" Ryou asked worriedly. He still clung to Bakura like a lost little child, but had since released the tomb robber's hand.  
  
"For the last time; yes, damn it!" Bakura growled. This was not a good time to ask questions. He was angry and sulky and so tired he could fall asleep standing up. And here he was; up at the crack of dawn after a long night- time desert trek, trying desperately to ignore the majority of his common sense, which was currently holding a vote on 'should we strangle the boy?'.  
  
For good measure, Bakura cuffed the smaller boy about the head, silencing his insecurities. It was right about now that the tomb robber regretted dragging the boy along in this whole thing. Then he would think about what would've happened if Ryou had been found by that guard instead of him, and that strange feeling would rise in Bakura. And he would be reassured that he did the right thing. Too bad the right thing wasn't always the best thing.  
  
The sun was just rising. Long rays of golden light were soaring over the horizon, and the fiery sun was appearing from behind mountainous sand dunes, an unreachable distance from mortal hands.  
  
The two weary travelers stood in the dirt street of a small town, before a small hut still shrouded in shadow. It looked long abandoned, and very decrepit to Ryou; but Bakura had insisted that his friend lived here, and Ryou and no choice but to trust him.  
  
Bakura walked up to the warped wooden door and knocked in four intervals of two, then finished off with three quick raps of his knuckles. For about a second, nothing happened. Then, the door swung open and a tanned boy with sandy coloured hair came out, looking ready to jump on the tomb robber. Large, almost impossibly violet eyes sparkled as they took in the scene before them.  
  
The boy stopped in his tracks and stared first at Ryou, then Bakura, then Ryou once again. A grin slowly broke over the boy's face as he turned back to Bakura. "Good trick Bak, now where are the mirrors?" He asked good naturedly, arms akimbo.  
  
"No mirrors." Bakura replied gruffly. He jerked his head towards the smaller boy, who was standing shyly about five paces away from the other two. "This is Ryou. He's another loose one. Top rank, too." Bakura told the sandy-haired boy, whose eyes widened with emotion. Which emotion, Ryou couldn't tell. Most likely a mixture of many from the way he was biting his lip.  
  
"Well..come in, both of you, come in, please!" He offered, beckoning hurriedly towards the dark interior of the small house. As Ryou passed, the sandy-haired boy tugged on a lock of the silvery hair, and Ryou flinched. "Sorry! Sorry!" The boy apologized quickly, grinning sheepishly. "Just wanted to make _sure_ it wasn't mirrors.." He muttered quietly as he checked for passersby before slamming the ancient-looking wooden door shut.  
  
Ryou gaped at his surroundings. The house looked so much different on the inside! The room in which the three boys were standing was immaculately clean, and gold adorned almost every place where it could be hung, placed, laid, thrown, and plastered. A small window let in the early morning light, but actual rays never reached the room. Ryou was thankful for this; he had a feeling that if sunlight filtered into this golden room, he'd go blind from the shine.  
  
He was brought back to reality by a long wail. "Ohhhhhhh, it's so good to see you, Bak!!!!!" The sandy-haired boy said, hugging the tomb robber tightly. Bakura sighed in defeat and patted the other boy on the back in a friendly matter.  
  
Ryou's eyes widened as the tanned boy began to nibble on Bakura's earlobe. Bakura didn't seem shocked at all, just slightly embarrassed and very agitated. He pushed the sandy-haired boy away from him and cuffed him about the head, much in the same manner as he'd done to Ryou only moments ago. "_Friends_, Malik. We're _friends_. And _only_ friends." He muttered.  
  
"Can't blame a guy for trying." Malik said breathily, pouting a bit.  
  
Bakura rolled his eyes and mumbled something incoherently. But Ryou had a feeling it wasn't something nice. He turned to the smaller boy. "Ryou, this is Malik." He said. He looked to the blonde boy. "Malik, this is Ryou." Malik grinned as he looked Ryou over with predatory eyes. Bakura sighed as the inevitable happened.  
  
Malik clamped onto Ryou enthusiastically. "So pleased to meet you, Ryou! How are you? Are you thirsty? Are you hungry? Oh, of course you must be! You look like you haven't had a good night's sleep in weeks, you know! Hell, you look you haven't had a meal for months! You're practically skin and bone! Has Bakura been treating properly? Oh, he probably doesn't really care; you look starved! Well, we'll have to change that! I'll get something started, and you and Bakura can just relax, alright? And you'll have to tell me everything about you; I'm dying to know how you ran into Bakura!"  
  
He said all this very quickly, making Ryou's head ache. Malik ran out of the room and was gone for about four seconds before he came running back in, backwards. He stopped beside Bakura and latched onto him, resting his chin on the tomb robber's shoulder. "Bakura, may I? I'm sure he wouldn't mind; if what you said is true, he's used to it! So may I, please?" He drawled lazily, peering up at the tomb robber imploringly.  
  
Bakura rolled his eyes. "Sure, why not? Why would I ca-" He stopped suddenly and caught Ryou's innocent, confused look. That strange feeling boiled up inside him again, and his decision did a one-eighty in his mind. "..On second thought, no." He told Malik, who's face fell immediately. "  
  
"But you-"  
  
"I said no, damn it!" Bakura growled menacingly, shrugging Malik's chin off his shoulder and purposefully avoiding Malik's threatening glare.  
  
"Fine, Bakura. You want to keep him, you do that. Why would I care? Just hope you can explain it to him..the poor boy looks clueless. Hope it's _fun_." He hissed wickedly, violet eyes glinting with a shocking hardness. He stormed out of the room, leaving an ominous silence floating between Bakura and Ryou.  
  
"Um..what was Malik talking about?" Ryou asked nervously, shifting from foot to foot.  
  
Bakura's cheeks stung with a shade of scarlet only possible to achieve by extreme rage. Normally, he would've just made some smart retort and shrug off Malik's perpetual 'bout' (as he called it) of sex-on-the-brain, this time, the tomb robber just wanted to strangle the sandy-haired boy. He didn't know why, but the comment had a struck a nerve with him, even if all it was was a cruel joke made by a mad friend who just wanted some. "Nothing, Ryou. He was talking nonsense." Bakura told the smaller boy.  
  
Bakura beckoned Ryou to sit down on one of the many cushions that were placed-almost strategically, it seemed-on the tile floor of the room. Bakura took his usual place on a dyed black cushion that never seemed to go flat, while Ryou sat one cushion down, on a fluffy green one that had made Bakura feel like he was going to be swallowed whole when he'd tried it. It seemed to suit Ryou fine, though, as Bakura saw the smaller boy relax into it.  
  
The tomb robber sighed and closed his eyes, wanting to just forget everything for a moment. But it was not to be. The second his eyes closed and his mind began to slow, a piercing shriek, followed by a loud yelp, sounded through the house. Chaos ensued from there.  
  
There were many crashes and bangs, and once, a cat came streaking through the room with its tail on fire before heading through the small window into the freedom of the outdoors. This was closely followed by a voice yelling out various curses, followed by quite a large splatter and an abhorring 'ewwwwww..'.  
  
Ryou turned to Bakura in concern. "Are we really safe here? I mean...is he insane?" He asked quietly, twisting his hands together nervously. Bakura chuckled as a flying piece of bloody meat soared over their heads and onto the formerly pristine wall.  
  
"Yes, we're safe. In fact, I doubt there's any place safer. Malik's very good at his choice of lifestyle..er...lifestyles. He always makes sure to keep this place looking abandoned on the outside, and it works. The authorities still haven't found him. Only feet away, and they didn't search the house because it 'was too damned broken down to even hold a thief', as they put it."  
  
Bakura smirked and Ryou flinched as a shriek of "Oh Ra! Put it out, put it out!" filled the house, followed by sounds of rapid flapping, and a quiet 'never mind.'  
  
"As for insane..yes, he probably is." Bakura admitted, shrugging nonchalantly. Ryou began to look worried. "And he's brilliant, for it." The tomb robber grinned at the confused look on the smaller boy's face. "He's a genius. Malik knows what he's doing, even if he is a bit...odd. And I really wouldn't like him any other way." Bakura told the other boy.  
  
"Awwwwww, how sweet! Thank you so much, Bakura!" Malik said, appearing at the doorway. Ryou and Bakura both turned to look at him. Ryou in shock. Bakura in amazement.  
  
Malik was balancing a large tray in each hand, each filled with bowls and platters practically overflowing with delicious-smelling foods. He was also balancing another tray on his head, and was carrying a linen rag in his waistband. He was grinning in a way that reminded Ryou of an escaped maniac enjoying his first moments of newfound freedom.  
  
Malik swept over to the two silver haired boys flawlessly, and dropped to one knee with his head bent forward. "Would one of you kindly take the tray off my head, please? It's quite hot." He complained. Ryou graciously took the tray and put it down quickly before him, looking at his burning hands. They were bright red from the heated platter, and Ryou looked up at the smiling Malik in amazement.  
  
"Here, Bakura, take yours. No, that's not yours." He said. He matched the other boy's questioning glare, which clearly asked 'Oh, and why's that?'  
  
"Why not? Because you said you don't like my bread, that's why, you ungrateful bastard. That good enough a reason?" He asked, mock-glaring at the other boy. He ran over to where the raw meat had landed and wiped it up with the rag, throwing the whole thing out the window. He then proceeded to flop down onto the cushion separating the other two boys and grin, looking at each of them brightly. "Wow, I feel lucky!" He said.  
  
Ryou gave him an inquiring look as he was lifting a bowl from the tray and sniffing its contents carefully.  
  
"Here I am having good food and.." He sipped some sort of liquid from a mug and licked his lips. "And _very_ good drink! All with two absolutely gorgeous desert beauties who just managed to find their way to my humble abode." He purred, looking at Bakura with half lidded eyes, then at Ryou with an equally sultry look.  
  
Bakura snorted derisively and rolled his eyes. Ryou looked uneasily down at his bowl. Silence was all consuming for a few seconds before he felt a hand on his shoulder. Ryou looked over at Malik, who was staring apologetically at him with hardened eyes that looked out of place on the young features.  
  
Ryou was blown away. It was like Malik had just removed a mask. It was a new person he was looking at. The hyper, cheery boy was gone, and Ryou stared at the violet eyed boy in fear. The bright, sparkling eyes were long lost, irretrievable in endless pools that held a scarred, haunted feel to them. They seemed to hold the true Malik, and Ryou could tell that these were the eyes of someone who had become wise beyond his years, because of all the wrong reasons.  
  
"I'm sorry." Malik told him, tightening his grip on Ryou's shoulder. I shouldn't have said that. But I didn't mean to hurt you in any way, please understand that. I know what you've been through, and I know it hurts.."  
  
The sandy-haired boy paused and looked down at the ground in dismay. Ryou had the feeling he was reliving something in his mind.  
  
"..So if I ever say something like that again that bothers you; please tell me, alright?" He asked Ryou, his eyes cold and hard, completely guarded as they searched Ryou's for something that Ryou wasn't sure was there.  
  
Ryou nodded, and he could see Malik snap back into his persona, unwilling to show himself once again. Lost behind a wall of laughter and a charming smile. "Alright, let's dig in! Ryou, tell me all about yourself, and how you met Bakura!" He requested, rubbing his hands together excitedly and giving Ryou an encouraging grin.  
  
Ryou obediently told his story of woes and wandering faith to his small audience. But he had them hanging on his every word. By the end of it, Bakura seemed to be emanating an aura of masked sympathy, and looked very upset. Malik, Ryou had the feeling, was half way between screaming in rage and crying in sympathy, but he was definitely riled up.  
  
"Your friends? He killed your friends...and they were only trying to help you escape?" Malik asked incredulously. Ryou nodded, and Malik gasped in horror. "I don't know how you could've dealt with that... I don't know what I'd do if Bakura wasn't here!" He exclaimed, latching onto Bakura, who choked on his mouthful of fish.  
  
Malik quickly released him and clapped the tomb robber soundly on the back, helping him get the fish down. "Sorry." He said quickly. Bakura nodded, ensnared in a burst of that same foreign feeling he'd gotten twice before when traveling with the smaller boy.  
  
"Well Ryou, I still congratulate you on achieving freedom, even if it was at a great price." Malik said softly, smiling.  
  
"He's not out of the woods yet." Bakura piped up. He knew he was crushing hope, but it was only the simple truth. "Remember; the guards are still looking for him, and they probably won't stop until they find him."  
  
Ryou's face fell, and Malik glared at him angrily. "You are such a kill- joy, Bakura. You should try to be optimistic for once in your life. I mean, look at what the boy's done already!"  
  
The tomb robber scowled and looked at Ryou. "Done what? Get his friends killed? Almost get himself killed in the desert? Almost get _me_ killed in the desert?" He knew the words coming out of his mouth were cruel and harsh, but he couldn't afford to go soft.  
  
Malik scowled and snatched Bakura's wooden food tray away from him. "He's stayed alive, with his empathy still intact, which is more than I can say about _you_!" He muttered, bashing Bakura on the head with the tray before taking it out to the kitchen.  
  
Bakura rubbed his head and swore under his breath while he glanced sideways at Ryou, who was still chewing on some lamb. He had a defeated look on his face, and Bakura got the most terrible feeling of being stabbed in the heart every time he saw it.  
  
"I'm sorry I said what I did." Bakura managed through clenched teeth. It had been a long time since he had apologized to anyone, and an even longer time since he had really meant it. This was basically a note-worthy event to anyone who knew him.  
  
Ryou looked up at Bakura with surprised yes. The tomb robber had a feeling that he knew how rare it was to receive an apology from Bakura, and he smiled. "It's alright; there's really nothing to apologize for. Every bit of what you said is true, and I should be the one who's sorry." He said softly. Bakura felt his cheeks go red.  
  
"Uh.."  
  
"Oh, I almost forgot!!!!" They heard Malik yell from somewhere in the house. He came running to the main room, where the other boys sat, carrying something that jingled slightly in a linen wrap. He parked himself on the cushion he'd taken before, during breakfast, and smiled, hunching over the wrap.  
  
"What's this, Malik?" Bakura demanded, trying to see over the sandy-haired boy's shoulder to what he was unwrapping. It was useless, as Malik shifted position and curled over a bit more every time Bakura tried to see what he had.  
  
"I was wondering the streets yesterday doing some shopping--"  
  
"You mean stealing."  
  
Malik looked over at Bakura in exasperation. "You just can't let that go, can you?" Bakura shook his head, and Malik sighed in defeat. "Alright, I was stealing. Anyway, I was going around looking for stuff I need..or wanted, when I came upon this goldsmith's shop and saw something that caught my eye."  
  
By now, even Ryou was curious to see what Malik was hiding. Bakura was, too, but was a little less subtle about it. "Alright, so show us the damn thing!" He demanded.  
  
Malik looked at him as if he had sprouted camel's ears. "Bakura, I'm shocked! You of all people must remember; I've always been one to delight in artistic license! Anything worth presenting is worth presenting with some dramatic flare." He told them both, punctuating it sharply, leaving no room for argument.  
  
Bakura muttered something uncomplimentary and rolled his eyes, but Malik purposefully ignored him, and continued with his antic dote. "So I'm standing there thinking to myself that this shouldn't be here, sitting in some shop; it should be worn with pride by someone really special..yes, I know that sounds foolish, but it was just the _feel_ I got from it."  
  
He paused to breathe, then continued. "I thought for a moment about what I should do with it, and then it hit me, so I took it, and I just knew... I had to give it to _you_, Bakura. It just...seemed right." He said, shrugging. "So, here it is."  
  
He held up a flashing gold item to Bakura, for him to examine. It was a gold ring with a two dimensional pyramid in the center, accented with five gold baubles attached to the large ring from the center down. All of this was hung on common rope, instead of a real chain, but it somehow complimented the whole thing.  
  
Bakura really didn't like it that much; it simply wasn't meant for him. Malik had been wrong; it wasn't meant to be given to him. He had no purpose for it. He was about to hand it back to Malik and tell him his thoughts, when he looked over at Ryou. He was staring at the ring intently, his eyes taking in all the intricate detail of it. And Bakura knew: this was meant for Ryou. It suited him perfectly, in every way, and the tomb robber immediately concluded that he had to give this to Ryou. It just..belonged to him.  
  
He turned to Malik with the necklace-like ring in hand. "What do you want for it, Malik?" He asked warily. Trade with Malik was almost always very costly. Though usually, it was worth it, since most of the merchandise was high quality, and served more than one purpose.  
  
The violet eyed boy looked thoughtful. "Well...normally, I'd ask for some solid gold...maybe a statue or two. But for this.." He smiled wickedly. "I stole the gold to steal a kiss." He stated simply.  
  
Ryou's eyes widened in surprise, and Bakura sighed. "I had a feeling you were up to something, you fiend." He said accusingly. Malik smiled innocently.  
  
"A kiss on the _cheek_. How's that?" He asked, compromising. Bakura huffed and turned a light shade of pink. However, he leaned over and gave the sandy-haired thief a quick peck on the cheek. Malik smiled delightedly and took out a piece of papyrus from inside his waistband, along with a small ink bottle. He immediately began scrawling on the papyrus.  
  
"What in Ra's name are you doing, you twit?" Bakura demanded, his cheeks still tinged a light pink. Ryou's mind passed swiftly over the fact that the blush very much appealed to him, but he forced himself not to dwell on it.  
  
Malik didn't look up from scribbling hieroglyphs on the papyrus. "I'm making a note: 'Today, Bakura kissed me.'" He informed the two, smiling sneakily.  
  
Bakura looked flustered. "Give that here!" He ordered, snatching it away from Malik and ripping it in half. Malik didn't seem too fazed, just took out another piece from inside his sash and began rewriting the note. Once again, Bakura grabbed it from the boy and ruined it, this time ripping it several times, so it fell to the floor in shreds.  
  
Malik sighed and pulled another piece from under his thin garment and began writing again. Bakura glared angrily at him but didn't move to take the note, giving up. He sighed and pulled a few cushions behind the black one he was sitting on and flopped back onto his cushion-bed, glancing sideways as Malik returned the note to the inside of his waistband.  
  
"Won't the ink rub off on you?" Ryou asked Malik quietly. The violet eyed boy shrugged nonchalantly. "Probably." He admitted lightly. "Really doesn't matter, though. I'm having a bath today, anyway." He explained. Ryou nodded.  
  
Bakura held out his arm in Ryou's general direction and flicked his wrist, causing the gold ring to jingle softly, gaining the smaller boy's attention. Ryou just stared at it, unsure of what to do. "Well, what are you waiting for?" Bakura asked, not opening his eyes. "Take it." He ordered Ryou, still holding out the ring.  
  
Ryou carefully took the gold from Bakura's hand, and clutched it tightly to his chest. "I-It's mine?" He asked incredulously. Bakura rolled over onto his stomach and rested his hands underneath his chin, looking at Ryou carefully.  
  
"Yes, it's yours. Don't lose it, and never take it off, understand?" Bakura inquired lazily, looking at the other silver-haired boy through half lidded chocolate eyes. Bakura nodded and slipped the unique piece of gold jewelry over his neck. Bakura smirked, satisfaction flooding him. It looked marvelous on Ryou. Suited him perfectly.  
  
Malik smiled. "Well, I'm glad _someone_ will be getting some use out of it. And it suits you quite well, too." He said brightly. "Plus, you needed it; everyone needs a trademark." The violet haired boy informed him.  
  
"For Malik; it's three trademarks." Bakura drawled. Malik huffed indignantly and glared at Bakura. "So I like having a piece of good jewelry, so what?" He asked defensively. Bakura smirked again.  
  
"Earrings, neckband, weird Rod/dagger thing..." He counted off, as Malik sulked a bit. The bad mood lasted for less than five seconds before he sighed and hugged Bakura. This was an awkward position, since Bakura was lying down. "What was that for?" He asked, sitting up on his elbows. Malik didn't answer; just proceeded to hug Ryou.  
  
Bakura felt the strange feeling flare up again, but it passed quickly as Malik released the shocked boy. "Alright Malik, what's going on?" The tomb robber demanded warily. Malik shook his head sadly and glanced at the two silver haired boys.  
  
"You know I'm a bit on the superstitious side, Bakura.."  
  
Bakura quirked an eyebrow. "Yes. But what possible relevance does that have?" He asked. Ryou just looked confused and rubbed his thumb and forefinger against his newly attained necklace.  
  
The violet eyed boy sighed. "They say that if you meet your twin, one of the two will die soon after." He said quietly. Silence hung heavily in the air before Bakura burst out laughing.  
  
"Not only is that complete and total crap; but me and Ryou are _not_ twins!" He managed between bouts of laughter.  
  
Malik looked worriedly between the two. "I don't know, Bakura. The only differences I can see between you two-physically, at least-is that you're taller and more muscular, you have darker skin, and your eyes are different." He informed them both, still looking fretful.  
  
Bakura sobered up quickly. "We're not twins, Malik. We're probably not even the same age." He turned to Ryou. "How old are you?" He inquired.  
  
"Fifteen." Ryou told him. Bakura smirked. "See? I'm sixteen! We're not even the same age! He just happens to have the same hair and eye colour as me. And the eyes aren't even anything to get curious about; look at where we live! It's not like brown eyes are a rarity!" He countered.  
  
Malik frowned but nodded in agreement. Ryou just sat silently, listening to the two other boys argue. He zoned out momentarily, going over everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours.  
  
Suddenly, he had the feeling he was being watched. He brought himself back to the present time and blinked. Indeed, he was being watched. All eyes were on him. "Well?" Bakura asked impatiently.  
  
"Um..'well' what?" Ryou asked shyly, glancing between Malik and Bakura. Malik smiled in amusement. Bakura scowled in annoyance.  
  
"Weren't you listening, boy?" He barked at Ryou. The smaller boy shrunk away from the harsh voice, and Bakura sighed in defeat as a fairly foreign feeling he recognized as guilt exploded inside him. "Malik asked if you wanted to go outside and tour the city." The tomb robber informed Ryou.  
  
Ryou's eyes lit up in excitement. "Oh, could we?" He asked imploringly. "I'd absolutely love that!" He exclaimed, smiling in delight. Both of the other boys looked stunned at the exuberant reaction, but Malik was first to recover. He smiled kindly at Ryou.  
  
"Of course! That is, if Bakura agrees." Malik said. Both boys turned expectantly to the tomb robber.  
  
"But..oh, why not?" He said, not bothering to fight the inevitable.  
  
"Oh, thank you, Bakura!" Ryou exclaimed cheerfully, hugging him tightly. The other felt blood rush to his face, and he carefully unlatched the smaller boy from himself.  
  
Bakura got up and stretched, running a hand through his hair. He turned to look down at Ryou. "Why are you so excited about touring the city, anyway?" He asked lightly. Ryou looked down at his feet.  
  
"I never really got to see outside, before. I was usually kept locked up in a room." Ryou admitted quietly. Bakura's eyes softened, and he refrained from asking any other questions, knowing that the upcoming was dangerous territory for him to tread.  
  
Malik decided to break the awkward silence, and he jumped to his feet, rubbing his hands together. "Alright then. Since the vote to tour is unanimous; let's go get you two ready." He said, grabbing one of Ryou's arms and leading him out of the main room and down a hallway, to a small room that obviously had been built by Malik himself. Bakura tagged along behind Ryou, smirking.  
  
Inside the room, Ryou gasped. Though Malik had obviously added it to the house himself, it was built expertly. Compact, but still quite spacey, it was easy to move around in. Oil lamps were hung all over the place, and it was almost like the sun itself was shining into the room. In the center of the room; there was a large table with three piles of what looked like textiles lying upon it.  
  
Malik rooted through the piles and flung a few items to both Ryou and Bakura. "What's all this for?" Ryou asked the violet-eyed boy, shifting his bundle around in his arms to get a better grip on them.  
  
"Stuff you'll need in order to go outside undetected." Malik mumbled in response, beginning to dig through a small trunk full of what looked useless trinkets. Ryou turned to the tomb robber for an explanation.  
  
Bakura smirked. "Almost everyone in this town knows that there's a white- haired tomb robber loose. They'll be looking for me. Malik was considerate enough to get me a costume so I wouldn't be recognized. Since we have the same hair colour, people might think _you're_ the tomb robber, so you need a disguise, too." He reasoned.  
  
Malik cursed as a small bottle broke, and a dark liquid spread across the floor. Bakura snarled. "Shit. That wasn't the stuff, was it?" He demanded. Malik shook his head.  
  
"No. That was my last bottle of brandy." Malik said, sighing. He glanced at the mess seeping across the floor. "I'm going to have to clean that up later." He mumbled, scowling.  
  
"If you're the only one who needs a disguise, though, then why does he keep more than one handy?" Ryou asked curiously. The tomb robber looked sideways at the other boy and smirked.  
  
"I'm not the only one that Malik helps out. Of course, everyone else pays him a price."  
  
"And you don't?"  
  
Malik paused to look up at Ryou brightly. "Of course he doesn't! Bakura's my best friend! What sort of person would I be if I charged my best friend for my help?" He asked slyly. Bakura rolled his eyes. Ryou just smiled and nodded, unsure of how to answer the question.  
  
Malik whooped loudly and fell back from the trunk, holding up two small bottles. He threw one to Bakura, who caught it carefully between his teeth, unable to use his hands unless he dropped his disguise. He gently spat it out so it landed on top of his bundle. Malik gave Ryou the other bottle, causing the smaller boy to drop his bundle in order to catch it. Malik snickered.  
  
"Now, you two should get to it; you don't have too long until all the shops open up. That's when it's best to tour." He told Ryou cheerily.  
  
"Um...what do we do?" The smaller boy asked Malik softly.  
  
The violet-eyed boy grinned. "You strip and put on the lotion, of course! It's multi-functional! It keeps you from being burnt, and it darkens your skin. You two can't go around looking like you're made of white silk, you know! You'll be spotted right away!"  
  
"Strip?" Ryou asked fearfully. "But I...um.." He floundered, lost for words. Malik blinked, a blank look on his face as he tried to decipher what Ryou was trying to say. Suddenly, realization hit him, and he smirked.  
  
"Oh, that's no problem." He reassured Ryou kindly. He reached over to the wall and unhooked a long cord. Tugging hard on it, Ryou watched as a curtain fell from the ceiling, blocking him from Malik's view. The smaller boy looked over at Bakura, who was on his side of the curtain.  
  
"Malik thinks of everything." Bakura mumbled, shaking his head in amazement.  
  
"Actually, not really." The sandy-haired boy's voice floated through the cotton curtain. "I don't only get guys in here that want a disguise or a temporary safe house, you know!" He paused. "Course, the girls are a lot pickier than the guys. For some reason, they're really modest about their body. I walk in here one day while a girl is changing, and I get slapped so hard I think Ra felt it! So I learn from my mistakes, and I built this thing. Haven't been slapped once since! Well, not by a girl, anyway.." He trailed off, and Bakura scowled, glaring daggers at the semi-identifiable moving shadow that had to be Malik. "I'll shut up now." Malik said quietly. "You two get ready while I get some stuff together for you." Malik ordered, exiting the room.  
  
"He's weird." Ryou stated. Bakura shrugged.  
  
"Does that matter?" He asked. The smaller boy shook his head. "Good. Then let's get ready." He said, dumping the pile of clothes and the small bottle and unstrapping everything from his waistband. Two water canteens, a dagger, a length of semi-ruined rope (it obviously hadn't taken to the dunk in the river very well), and a small bag that seemed to contain some personal hygiene items.  
  
He began to undo the tie at his waist, and his sash fell to the ground. Ryou blushed a brilliant red and turned to face the wall, knowing that he'd probably be yelled at for staring. But for one second, he'd seen Bakura total, lithe form, and the image stuck in his head, forcing the blush to stay.  
  
Ryou heard the sound of someone uncorking a bottle, then an almost inaudible sound of something rubbing against skin. Bakura hissed softly from behind Ryou and cursed, muttering how 'this stuff was too damn cold' and 'last time, Malik heated it up'.  
  
Ryou waited patiently, trying hard to focus on the cracks in the wall before him. Bakura cleared his throat, signifying to Ryou that it was fine to turn back around. Ryou did, and gasped. The boy before him didn't even look like Bakura anymore, save the eyes and general figure.  
  
The tomb robber's skin had grown about seven shades darker, giving him a tanned look that rivaled Malik's own skin colour. He was wearing a beige wrap, accentuated by his usual old waistband, and a black wig that, if Ryou had not known better, he would have thought was the real thing. His eyes were accentuated with black ore, which gave Bakura an appealing aesthetic look.  
  
Bakura walked up to him. "Why haven't you gotten ready yet?" He demanded, putting his hands on his hips. Bakura opened his mouth to respond, but couldn't find words. He was still too in awe of Bakura.  
  
The tomb robber sighed in frustration and slapped the bottle from Ryou's bundle of clothing into his hand. "This lotion darkens your skin so you won't be recognizable. It doesn't last long, but it will stay on for a while as long as you don't get it wet. Water washes it off completely. You need to put it on every part of you that will be visible." Bakura informed him. He turned around with his back to Ryou and folded his arms across his newly-tanned chest. "Well, what are you waiting for?" He asked impatiently.  
  
Ryou quickly disrobed and opened the small bottle, sniffing the contents. It smelled quite sweet, but was pretty mild. He poured some into his hands and placed the cap back on the bottle, putting it on the floor beside him. Ryou rubbed the oil on his face and chest, neck and back, and arms and legs, until he thought he'd covered himself completely.  
  
"Is the lotion on yet?" Bakura asked, still facing away from Ryou.  
  
"Yes, but I'm not dresse--"  
  
Bakura turned to face Ryou, and looked him over. The smaller boy quickly covered himself. He was thankful the lotion covered the heat flooding to his face, he was positive he must be scarlet by now. Bakura really didn't seem to care, just ordered Ryou to turn around. He did so, and Bakura frowned. "You've missed practically your entire back!" He exclaimed in dismay.  
  
"Did I?" Ryou inquired in surprise, trying to see where he hadn't rubbed the oil. Bakura picked up the half full bottle of lotion from the ground and walked up to Ryou.  
  
"Don't bother; I'll do it for you." He said, opening the bottle and letting some of the liquid flow onto his hands. He placed the almost empty bottle back on the floor. He began to massage Ryou's back, spreading the oil evenly, causing the smaller boy's pale skin to turn caramel.  
  
Goosebumps formed on Bakura, and he suppressed an excited shudder. Why did this feel so _good_?! He silently screamed. Ryou's skin was cool against his hands, and Bakura felt blood rush to his face, along with another place, further south. He shook his head to rid himself of several thought that were beginning to make him forget exactly _why_ he was slathering lotion all over the fair boy's back.  
  
Bakura rubbed the back of Ryou's neck, too, since he hadn't spread the oil evenly. He lifted the rope holding the ring from the boy's neck, not wanting to get the lotion on it.  
  
He finished off quickly, and punched Ryou hard in the shoulder. "Get ready." He ordered harshly. The smaller boy nodded and put on the clothes that Malik had given him, along with the wig. He hadn't received any make- up, however, and he was thankful for this.  
  
Both boys walked out of the small changing room and returned to the main room, where Malik was standing, his arms full of junk. "I've packed some food and water, and also given you each a bit of gold and copper to trade with." He said, shoving three packets into each boy's arms. "Have fun, don't kill anybody-that was only a warning for Bakura, Ryou-and finally...if you see anything you like, and you can't afford it, just steal it." He said, grinning.  
  
Malik escorted the two disguised boys to the door. "By the way, Ryou, you look good! You did very well with coating the oil evenly, especially on your back! A lot of people have difficulty doing that by themselves." He said cheerily. He turned to both Bakura and Ryou, giving them a warning glare. "Be back before sunset, though. If that oil stays on for two long, it blotches." He warned them.  
  
The two stepped out into the morning sunlight, and Malik waved good-bye and closed the door. "Do you think we'll be alright? I mean, will the disguises work?" Ryou asked the tomb robber fretfully.  
  
"Of course they'll work! They always have before. Ryou, stop worrying; nothing is going to happen." He reassured the smaller boy. Ryou nodded his acceptance of Bakura attempts to sooth him.  
  
And so the two set out to tour.  
  
  
  
_________  
  
  
  
Well, there's chapter two. I apologize for it being so long. If you actually read all of it to make it this far; I congratulate you on your incredible attention span.  
  
Please review. I won't continue if I don't get reviews. And then you won't find out if anything happens while they tour the city, will you? So review! 


	3. Revelations

Disclaimer: If you've bothered to read the last two chapters, then you'd know that I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh. But I do own the plot to this fic; so you can't take it.  
  
A/N: Once again; I thank all of you who reviewed, and I apologize to those whom I've kept in suspense. *glances at small horde of angry reviewers* I really am sorry; but my computer's toying with me, and keeps on deleting all my precious chapters. (Out of the five I've written, this is the only one still in existence! And I've had to rewrite this one five times already!!!!!!!) So I apologize. I'll try to get the next chapter out sooner, but I'm not promising anything.  
  
Alright, notes for this fic: (PLEASE READ) Please keep in mind that slaves weren't treated fairly, and that even the kindest ruler treated slaves like nothing more than property and/or playthings. Also, I'd like to warn you all now; this chapter is the worst of them all. The writing's rushed, and sort of jumpy. But please, please don't leave! For those of you who continue on with reading my fic, and review nicely; YOU WILL BE REWARDED. After this total-piece-of-frigging-crap chapter; things get better. Much better. Especially for you Malik fans. And at long last; we're on the horizon of sweet, glorious shounen-ai. That's right. You review; and I continue the fic. I continue the fic; and we all get to read some BakuraxRyou action. And we want that, now don't we?  
  
One more thing: People who were dead in the show aren't necessarily dead now. Why, you ask? Because it's _my_ semi-AU fic, and I can twist the reality of it, that's why. So no flames for that, okay?  
  
________  
  
  
  
  
  
Ryou walked along happily, taking all the sights, smells, and scenes of a bustling main street in mid-morning. All around him merchants were selling their wares, citizens were bargaining and laughing, and people from all walks of life were merely enjoying the fine day. Booth upon booth crowded the edge of the street, and yells of advertisement were like music to Ryou's ears. After years of almost complete silence and solitude, the masses of people surrounding him served to give Ryou a euphoric high.  
  
Bakura, however, wasn't taking to all the commotion too well. Feeling responsible for both himself and the smaller boy, he was focused on making sure that no one noticed anything out of the ordinary. He would kill himself if Ryou was caught. Already he was regretting not putting up a fight about going out here in the open; practically the equivalent of holding up a huge sign that said 'come and arrest me'.  
  
The tomb robber sighed in dismay at his own stupidity, only keeping himself half focused on Ryou's whereabouts. For the entire duration of the trip, the smaller boy had kept to Bakura's side, not straying more than a couple of paces away. Which made Bakura almost have a heart attack when he noticed that Ryou wasn't anywhere around him.  
  
What if he'd been swept up in a passing crowd? What if he'd been kidnapped right from Bakura's side, and he hadn't noticed? What if-Bakura growled in annoyance and muttered something uncomplimentary.  
  
Scowling, he walked over to a merchant's booth where Ryou was awing over the merchandise. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" He asked, glaring harshly at the other boy. Ryou looked up at him with huge brown eyes that were the perfect picture of innocence, and Bakura fell silent, unable to start in what had been a forthcoming lecture.  
  
"I'm looking at some stuff." Ryou said, holding up a gold statuette of Set[1]. "It's quite pretty, don't you think?" He asked, shoving it up to Bakura's face. The tomb robber pried the statue out of the smaller boy's hand, and returned it to the table.  
  
"It's of mediocre quality." Bakura said in slight distaste, eyeing the statue. The merchant frowned.  
  
"I beg to differ." He drawled indignantly. "I'll have you know that everything I sell is of the best make there is." He said pointedly, looking at Bakura through dangerously narrowed eyes. Well, _eye_, since only one was visible.  
  
"Oh?" Bakura said challengingly. "I know almost very merchant in this town, and I've never seen you here before. And from my _experienced_ point of view, I believe I could get better quality from an infant's make." He said nastily.  
  
The merchant huffed in anger, and Ryou looked worriedly between the tomb robber and the white haired man. He wasn't sure this was the best place to start a fight. "Listen here you little ingrate; I'd like to see you _try_ to find better quality than what I carry. This is nothing but the best, _for_ nothing but the best. So why don't you just run off to somewhere you belong; like a _brothel_, maybe?" He countered, snarling.  
  
Bakura's eyes widened in a sudden, fiery anger. "You bastard!" He growled, lunging at the white-haired man, who dodged him easily, using the booth as a barrier. "Come out from behind there and fight like a man, you bastard!" Bakura shouted.  
  
As the white haired man simply smiled smugly and motioned for Bakura to shoo, Ryou had to hold the tomb robber's arm to keep him from beating the ignorant man to a bloody pulp. "Please, let's just leave! He's not worth the time!" Ryou reasoned through clenched teeth. He was using all his strength and body weight to hold Bakura still, and he wasn't going to last much longer.  
  
From behind a curtain inside the booth, a woman poked her head out to see what the cause of the commotion was. Long blonde hair streamed over her shoulders, and gentle blue eyes gazed curiously at the white-haired man, then at Ryou and Bakura. "Pegasus, is something the matter?" She asked the man softly.  
  
"No, no, not at all Cynthia." The man said reassuringly. "Just a couple of street rats trying to get a fight started." He told her, motioning for her to return to whatever she'd been doing.  
  
The woman ignored him and came out into the open, approaching the two boys without hesitation. "Would one of you be willing to tell me what's going on?" The woman asked kindly, smiling softly. "I might be able to help." She offered.  
  
Two minutes later Ryou and Bakura were walking away from the booth, each with a free piece of merchandise as an apology from the woman about her husband's behavior. Bakura smirked in satisfaction, while Ryou marveled at the make of the perfume bottle he'd chosen.[2]  
  
"Well, that was fun!" Ryou exclaimed happily, smiling. Bakura nodded his agreement and pocketed his gold necklace. He thought that it would be a wonderful addition to Malik's already obscenely large collection of gold trinkets. "I can't believe that woman fell for the story we gave her!" Bakura said in glee. Ryou just smiled.  
  
"I can't believe she actually yelled at her husband for that long without stopping to breathe." He said, shaking his head in awe. The two laughed, with both enjoying the way it made the other's face light up. Of course, they never actually dwelled on this..  
  
The two continued walking along, Ryou chattering away happily, and occasionally straying over to a booth or wares blanket, where he'd look around and eventually buy something that really had no practical use. Bakura simply walked along, half listening to the smaller boy, but for the most part, just enjoying his company.  
  
Suddenly, a small boy rose above the crowd on a platform across the street full of massing people, and set off a small explosion of fiery, glittering sparks that left trails of golden light in their paths. Everyone stopped to watch the display, even Ryou and Bakura. But particularly Ryou.  
  
The small, black-haired boy grinned at the large audience. "Welcome to the show! You are about to see one of the most unbelievable magicians of our age!" The boy yelled out to the crowd. "Prepare to be amazed as she performs acts of incredible powers with prefect precision and poise! The beauty of the desert..the one, the only; Mai Kujaku!!!!!" The boy yelled out, only a second before silver and violet smoke exploded out of a place unknown. Both Ryou and Bakura snickered. Such a child wouldn't even understand the words coming out of his own mouth. But still, they watched on.  
  
The audience gasped as the smoke erupted into blue flames, and a scantily clad blonde girl stepped out of the strange inferno, unharmed. Everyone watching clapped in amazement, save Bakura and his companion. "Hello, and welcome, my adoring fans!" The woman said, bowing deeply. Most men in the audience were already captivated and glued to the spot. Ryou and Bakura exchanged knowing looks, but continued to watch.  
  
"Today, I'll be performing some of my most dangerous acts, and there's a good chance that something could go wrong." Mai said. "Remember; this is powerful magic I'll be dealing with. I will only succeed in my endeavors if the Gods are with me." She said, voice laced with false hope.  
  
"For my first act, I'll need a volunteer from the audience. Someone strong, someone who trusts in my abilities..who would like to come up and help me?" She asked the audience, putting on a mask of helplessness.  
  
A blonde man from the crowd raised his hand before the rest, and Mai winked at him and beckoned him to join her on the stage. She flipped her long blonde hair over to one shoulder and turned around, her back and neck exposed to the man, who wore a strange bandana and a lecherous grin. "Hun, do you see a snake tattoo on the back of my neck?" She asked the man sweetly. The man said yes, and Mai smiled.  
  
"Good. Be a dear and rub it three times, right to left, hm?" She requested. The man did so, looking close to drooling. Most of the other males in the audience weren't far behind.  
  
Suddenly, the tattoo on the girl's neck glowed green, and the man pulled his hand back with a yelp as Mai was encased in a flash of green light.  
  
Bakura snorted. "Nothing but a bunch of powders mixed with crushed fool's gold." He told Ryou. "It's all stupid parlor tricks."  
  
The younger boy nodded. "I know." He said, agreeing. "She did almost the exact same stunts when she performed for the Pharaoh." He said simply.  
  
Bakura looked at Ryou in surprise. "She performed for the Pharaoh?" He asked curiously. Ryou nodded. "She was the High Sorcerer's apprentice for about two weeks." He told the tomb robber.  
  
"Why only two weeks?" Bakura inquired curiously. Ryou frowned.  
  
"She insulted the High Sorcerer..and the Pharaoh." He added lightly. Bakura quirked an eyebrow.  
  
"Insulted the _Pharaoh_? I'm surprised she's not dead!" He admitted. It wasn't often that one had a bad encounter with the Pharaoh and got away from it unharmed, or even alive. She must have tricked him somehow.  
  
"I was surprised she wasn't killed, either. But the Pharaoh really didn't care. He was...preoccupied, at the time. So all she got was a slap on the wrist from the High Sorcerer, and then she was simply fired." He said. Bakura scowled.  
  
"Lucky one, she is." The tomb robber stated flatly as the green smoke began to dissipate. The smaller boy nodded and looked on, feigning interest politely.  
  
The jade-couloured smoke disappeared into the air, only to reveal Mai still standing in the same place...with bright green snake slithering down her arm. The majority of the audience gasped in shock, and murmurs broke out through the crowd.  
  
Bakura frowned as the cunning blonde on stage 'transformed' the snake into a bird, then a bangle, and back into a serpent once again. "A former performer for the Pharaoh, giving a free show to peasants and regular civilians? I don't think so." He said haughtily, looking up at Mai accusingly. "She has to be up to something." He concluded. Ryou nodded his agreement.  
  
"Oh, she is." He said. Nudging the tomb robber's arm, he motioned towards the small black-haired boy who had announced the beginning of the parlour tricks. Sneaking stealthily along the rows of entranced spectators, the boy pick-pocketed anyone who looked like they would have anything of value. He was good at it, too. Going unnoticed by the unsuspecting victims, he filled an inconspicuous brown bag with his loot.  
  
Bakura smirked and shook his head in amazement. "They're getting younger and better every year." He said jokingly. Ryou smiled in amusement and began to walk off. He stopped when he noticed that Bakura wasn't following him.  
  
"Um, Bakura?" He whispered, going back and tugging on the tomb robber's arm. He didn't get a response, so he tugged again. "Shouldn't we continue on our way?" He asked pleadingly. Bakura brought himself back to the present and shrugged out of Ryou's grip.  
  
"I want to see how long it takes for the kid to get spotted." The tomb robber reasoned, smirking. Ryo glanced around worriedly.  
  
"But he's _already_ been spotted!" He complained softly. Bakura rolled his eyes.  
  
"By someone apart from us, Ryou." Bakura countered, rooting himself to the spot and continuing to watch the boy pick-pocket his way down their row.  
  
Ryou, on the other hand, was more concerned about Mai. He was distinctly aware of her eyes on him and Bakura, suspiciously narrowed, and quite threatening. But still, she continued her act, even while watching the two steadily. It unnerved Ryou, and once again he pleaded with the tomb robber, this time making sure to look him right in the eyes as he did.  
  
It worked, and a moment later the two were walking along leaving the magic act behind them.  
  
"Sorry for ruining your fun, Bakura" The smaller boy murmured, looking over at the tomb robber with round, apologetic brown eyes. They bore into Bakura, and something inside him flickered. Instantly; all anger was gone, replaced by a strangely warm feeling that Bakura was unnerved about.  
  
"You're forgiven." He muttered, not wanting to have to suffer the intoxicating effects of the chocolate eyes any further...purely for safety reasons. He glanced over at Ryou, who was walking along happily, humming under his breath. Bakura smiled involuntarily at the carefree boy, experiencing freedom for the first time in years.  
  
Then he remembered that smiling meant you were happy, and being happy meant you were preoccupied, and being preoccupied meant you were vulnerable. He forced the smile to fade from his lips by bringing back an old memory. It never failed to bring him back down to earth. It pained him, but it worked.  
  
Suddenly, Bakura was aware of a weight and pressure on his arm. He looked down and saw that Ryou had firmly attached himself to the tomb robber's upper arm, still smiling delightedly. "Thank you for taking me out to see the city, Bakura. It's very kind of you" Ryou said warmly, grinning up at the blushing tomb robber. His blush was hidden by the oil, and Bakura thanked the gods for it.  
  
"You're welcome." He said nervously. "Now let go! We're attracting stares. We're supposed to be inconspicuous, remember?" He hissed, jerking out of the smaller boy's grasp.  
  
He could feel the hurt emanating from Ryou, and it almost killed him. He bit his lip to keep from apologizing. But still, even he couldn't ignore the fact that he himself regretted losing the contact.  
  
'Get yourself together. These kinds of thoughts will get you in trouble, and you know it.' He told himself harshly. He grounded himself to thinking about how he was going to escape Malik later on when he would give him the necklace. Oh yes; he could see it now..  
  
'Oh, you really _do_ like me!'  
  
'No! It was just a thank you gift!'  
  
'Oh, come on! You don't have to be shy!'  
  
'Malik, no!'  
  
'But--!'  
  
Bakura's premonition was halted as he was brought back to reality by a shrill shriek.  
  
Both Ryou and the tomb robber turned their heads toward the direction of the shout, silently deciding to go check it out; but for very different reasons. They ran through the crowded street together, searching for the cause of the growing commotion. They found it in the form of a street-side scuffle between two boys. [3]  
  
There was a large group of people surrounding the two, and neither the tomb robber nor the smaller boy was able to see what was going on. Bakura scowled and shoved his way through the crowd, up to the front row, with Ryou stepping quickly in the path the tomb robber made, and apologizing for his rudeness. The two eventually made it to the open, with a clear, unobstructed view of the fight.  
  
Two boys were fighting quite violently, but both seemed unarmed. Ryou had no idea who they were, but everyone around him-including Bakura-wore a look of frustration on their faces. It seemed as though this was almost part of some strange routine for them. Ryou began to feel left out of the action, so he concentrated hard on the two, trying to see if either was recognizable as someone he'd met before.  
  
One boy, the one who seemed to have the upper hand, had the strangest hair Ryou had ever seen. A dusty aqua in a rather laughable haircut. It truly looked as if someone had simply placed a fruit bowl atop his head and cut around it. Ryou smiled in amusement at the thought as he eliminated the turquoise-haired boy from his list of acquaintances.  
  
The other boy was almost as strange. He had scraggly brown hair with purple bangs. His voice was gruff and had the feel of sandpaper. He seemed to know what he was doing, and blocked almost all of the other boy's blows. Ryou noted in surprise that he didn't seem at all shocked by what must have been a sudden attack. If nothing else; he seemed annoyed!  
  
Ryou shook his head at how the outside world had changed since he'd last seen it. Then again, when he'd last seen it he'd been under the Pharaoh's guard, and the Pharaoh visited only the better parts of his kingdom. Though this town was incredibly close to the palace itself, it was known as a thief's town, where surly merchants and hardened rogues skulked around. Yet it was nothing less than a haven to Ryou. But still; it boggled the mind.  
  
Another shrill shriek brought Ryou back to reality, and he snapped his head back to watch the fight. He gasped at what he saw. The fight now involved a dagger, sharp and dangerous-looking. The turquoise-haired boy was wielding it wildly, lashing out at the other boy with malice. The brown haired boy winced and tried to kick the other off him, after almost meeting his end at the business side of the weapon he held.  
  
By now, the crowd had disappeared, everyone muttering something incomprehensible as they returned to whatever they'd been doing before the scuffle broke out. Ryou himself wanted to get out of the way before the dagger accidentally found its way to a nearby piece of flesh that didn't belong to either of the fighting boys.  
  
Bakura, however, seemed to have different ideas. His eyes gleamed with the cunning of a fox spying its dinner, and Ryou watched curiously as the tomb robber carefully observed the two, and reached to the ground. In his hand, he held a small scarab beetle, which he'd saved from being caught up in the fight and probably killed.  
  
"You stole them, I know it! Admit it; you filth! Admit it!" The turquoise- haired boy screeched shrilly, making Ryou's ears ring at the pitch of his voice. The other boy growled and once again dodged a swift blow by the knife.  
  
"I've told you a million times, before the watch of Ra; I did not steal your stupid bugs! Why the hell would I want to!? Why would I bother to!?" He reasoned gruffly.  
  
Ryou was just about to intercept the blow he knew was coming, but a firm yet gentle hand on his shoulder stopped him. He turned to face Bakura, who silently denied Ryou permission to get involved. "Don't get any nearer, Ryou." The tomb robber ordered. "I know how to stop this." He muttered, clasping the scarab in his hand, but making sure not to kill it.  
  
He walked towards the scuffle, near enough so that he was well within reach of the dagger. "Hey, Haga. You just hit a scarab with that knife of yours, you know." He said to the tangle of limbs.  
  
Everything came to a standstill. Both boys froze, both with opposite extremes of expressions. The turquoise-haired boy -whom Ryou had now guessed was Haga--looked horrified beyond all reason, and he scrambled to his feet hurriedly, obviously looking for the non-existent bug. The other boy, however, looked immensely relieved, and didn't bother to hide it.  
  
"Where did it go?!" The turquoise-haired boy demanded, looking up at Bakura pleadingly. The tomb robber managed-with extreme difficulty-to keep a straight face, as he pointed down a nearby alleyway.  
  
The boy shrieked and ran down the thin side street, almost out of sight.  
  
Ryou turned to Bakura and whispered softly to him. "That wasn't very nice." He said quietly. "Lying to that boy like that, just to get him to go away."  
  
The tomb robber chuckled and patted Ryou amiably on the shoulder, and Ryou suddenly felt very naïve. Bakura hop-stepped once towards the alleyway the boy had disappeared down, and hurled the formerly trapped scarab beetle into the air. It soared over a few housetops, and landed somewhere down into the depths of the side street.  
  
"There. Happy?" Bakura asked, smirking. "I've no longer lied. Now there really _is_ a scarab in there. Hell if he'll find it, though." He said, shrugging and turning back to the other boy.  
  
He was sitting up on his haunches with a slightly dazed look, and slowly he reached for the knife, long discarded by the other boy, and re-sheathed it. "Stupid bastard.." He muttered, glaring down the alley while he rubbed at one of his arms where a large bruise was already forming.  
  
Bakura walked over to the brown haired boy and stared down at him, almost patiently. "I'm Malik's temporary representative." He told the boy, holding out his hand. The brown-haired boy didn't shake it, merely got to his feet and looked warily at the tomb robber.  
  
"Malik hasn't had a representative for a long time. He's been doing his own dirty work for a while now. Why would he employ one now?" The boy demanded gruffly, glancing from Bakura to Ryou and back again.  
  
The tomb robber snorted softly. "Malik's business isn't any concern of yours, Ryuzaki [4]." He said curtly. "So either pay the fee peacefully, or I'll just have to take it from you by force." Bakura said with conviction. Ryou had little to no idea what the tomb robber was talking about, but if he was the boy; he'd comply.  
  
And indeed, the boy complied, though grudgingly. Muttering curses and giving Bakura dirty looks, he searched through a small change pouch. He threw some gold angrily at Bakura, who caught it easily and pocketed it. "Thank you." Bakura said patronizingly.  
  
Ryou could see an impending fight, and he decided to take it upon himself to redirect the conversation. "Um.sir?" He said quietly, stepping forward, as if to initiate himself into the conversation.  
  
Both boys looked at him immediately, and some of Ryou's will disintegrated. He disliked being stared at. But he continued. "Sir...you have a cut on your cheek." He informed the brown-haired boy, pointing to the general area of the gash.  
  
Ryuzaki raised a hand to his cheek and winced as he felt the cut. He scowled and muttered a few curses under his breath. "That little bastard. Cut me with my own damn dagger." The boy stated resentfully.  
  
Ryou thought about what to do, and immediately untied one of the water canteens that Malik had given him. He offered it to the boy, who stared at it uncomprehendingly for a moment, before shifting his gaze to Ryou.  
  
Bakura quirked an eyebrow. What in Ra's name was Ryou thinking?! You don't just give up your supplies to anyone you see! Not for such a frivolous cause...never! He scowled.  
  
Ryou just smiled, though it looked a bit strained. "Wouldn't want that cut to get infected. So here, take it. I don't need it, really." He said, offering the water to the boy once more. This time it was accepted, and the brown-haired boy muttered a thanks to Ryou as he uncorked the cask.  
  
He upended the canteen, letting water run over his face, washing away dirt and blood from the cut. Bakura watched in a mix of anger and shell-shock. It seems he would have to teach Ryou the value of keeping his supplies. And teach the boy that such a generous offering of water meant 'take what you need, not all that you want.'  
  
The boy sighed in relief as the cut was cleansed, and he shook his head much in the fashion of a dog ridding itself of water. The force sprayed Bakura, the one closest to he brown-haired boy, with droplets of water, and the tomb robber hissed as if it was poison, and quickly tried to shy away from it.  
  
The quick action caused the wig to slip to the side, revealing pale silver hair. Bakura swore profusely and righted the wig, once again covering the give-away tendrils.  
  
Ryou gasped in horror as he watched Bakura suddenly become spotted. The places which the water had struck him had been washed free of the protective oil, and his skin became visible; a pale, stark contrast to the applied caramel tone.  
  
Ryuzaki watched all this in awe, and continued to stare, even when Bakura had regained his composure.  
  
Immediately, he strode angrily up to the brown-haired boy and glared warningly at him. "You saw nothing." He ordered the boy through clenched teeth. The boy nodded, but wore a sly grin which made the hairs on the back of Ryou's neck stand on end.  
  
The tomb robber walked back to Ryou stiffly, while the brown-haired boy, still grinning, skulked away quickly, disappearing into the mass of people. "Oh Bakura, I'm so sorry! Is there anything I can do? Ohhhh, I am sorry. Please forgive me!" Ryou babbled, stumbling to catch up with Bakura.  
  
"You're forgiven." Bakura said truthfully. He simply couldn't blame the smaller boy. It hadn't been his fault; he'd had no way of knowing what would happen.  
  
"What do we do?" Ryou asked fretfully, looking at Bakura apologetically. Bakura didn't hesitate in answering Ryou's inquiry.  
  
"We get back to Malik's as quickly as we possibly can." He said simply, grabbing Ryou's wrist and tugging him along as he ran stealthily into the nearest back alley.  
  
After a damn-near endless obstacle course of alleyways and crowded main streets, Ryou tried to stop, while clutching a stitch in his side with his free hand. "B-Bakura.." He huffed, breathless from the break-neck speed they'd been going. "Why are we running? And." He paused to gasp a deep breath, then continued. "And this isn't even the way to Malik's house! This isn't...isn't the way we came." Ryou gasped, looking at Bakura imploringly.  
  
The tomb robber stopped running, seeing that Ryou needed to catch his breath. Though he knew that this was a hazard-you never break when there's a good chance you're being hunted- but it was on Ryou's request, so he complied.  
  
Bakura stumbled over to rest in the shade of an overhanging rooftop, and sighed gratefully as a rare breeze swept by, cooling his face. He paused for a moment, letting Ryou catch his breath while thinking of a way to explain to the younger boy what the hell was going on.  
  
Bakura growled low in his throat-a sign of pure frustration-and turned to Ryou. "We're running because by now; Ryuzaki-that filthy little scum-has reported us to the nearest guard or soldier he could find. And seeing as how this entire city would be looking for either a silver-haired slave-boy, or a silver-haired tomb robber..we're both pretty much screwed unless we get to safety." He said all this very carefully; watching his wording so to make it less of a blow.  
  
Ryou still slumped in shame, and it bothered Bakura.  
  
'Someone so innocent shouldn't be leading such a terrible life.' He thought to himself, glancing at Ryou through his bangs. 'He should be somewhere nice, not having felt any pain. He doesn't deserve pain. He should have the perfect life.' Bakura concluded silently. '  
  
'And he definitely shouldn't be a runaway slave-boy to the frigging Pharaoh. And most _definitely_ not on the run with a lowlife like me!' The tomb robber smirked.  
  
"What's so funny?" Bakura heard, shaken out of his daze by Ryou's concerned voice. He shook his head and turned toward the smaller boy.  
  
"Nothing." He replied, arms akimbo. "Now, where was I-ah, yes. Why we're going a different route than which we came, right?" He asked, looking towards Ryou for confirmation. He nodded, and Bakura continued.  
  
"Because the officials will be on our tails. If we took the main way back; they'd be able to follow us easily. I don't want them to find Malik. So we're going one of the back ways. They'll never be able to trace our route..once we get far enough in, that is." Bakura said, running a hand through his hair.  
  
Ryou half-smiled. Even now; Bakura was thinking of others' safety before his own. 'How amazing!' Ryou thought happily, feeling warm inside despite their current situation. Bakura really was incredible..  
  
"Let's get going." The tomb robber said, pulling Ryou to his feet from where he had slumped against a barrel resting against the alley wall.  
  
Ryou got to his feet and followed Bakura down the alley, walking carefully and quietly; avoiding all the rubbish littering the ground.  
  
A few steps away from the alley exit, Bakura held Ryou back, staring stonily at him. "Why are we stopping?" Ryou asked curiously, looking around for any possible reason. Bakura pushed him back against the alley wall; what would have been out of sight for practically anyone who wasn't staring headlong at him.  
  
"The officials will be searching alleys for us. I have to make sure the cost is clear before we cross to the next alley. It's not too far from Malik's, but we still have a lot of alleys to go." He muttered, skulking down the remaining few feet of the alley and poking his head around the corner.  
  
He held his breath. No more than fifty paces away were five soldiers, dressed in the Pharaoh's officials' uniforms, were three guards, slowly making their way down. Searching every alleyway. Bakura silently cursed. 'The Gods must hate me today.' He though to himself, frowning. He began trying to judge the distance the guards were from him and Ryou.  
  
With their backs facing him, Bakura was able to tell that they'd be fine, so long as they moved quickly and silently. Those numbskulls would be too busy knocking things over in their half-assed attempt to find him than actually keeping an eye out for anyone.  
  
The tomb robber glared at the three men and cursed them in his mind. Then, as Bakura was just about to get out of view of the men, a sudden, loud sound startled him. In all actuality; it wasn't that loud. But it would be loud enough to hear from where the soldiers were.  
  
He swiveled quickly to look at Ryou; checking to see if he was okay. The boy was covering his mouth in a very frightened, childish way, and Bakura mouthed a very vile profanity. Ryou had sneezed!  
  
Bakura jerked his head back to check on the guards. It was as he had suspected; they were quickly coming his way..and they didn't look like they wanted a friendly game of arm wrestling.  
  
The tomb robber scrambled out of view; knowing that he'd already been seen. But a plan was already forming in his head as he jerked Ryou to the center of the alleyway, pulling him close. They were mere inches away from each other as Bakura began explaining his plan very quickly and urgently.  
  
Ryou seemed totally oblivious to the words, and was begging Bakura to just have them run the opposite way. But the tomb robber knew that that plan was pointless. Other guards would be waiting for them the second the rounded the corner.  
  
Bakura calmed the frantic boy gently, getting him to settle down and listen. "I want you to stay quiet until they're gone. Don't move an inch. The moment you're sure they're gone; get moving back to Malik's house. It's just a zigzag pattern; seven left, seven right. Then, the house at the end of the street. He'll take good care of you. Be careful." The tomb robber groped at his waistband and pulled a dagger from the folds. Solemnly, he handed it to Ryou. "Use this if you have to protect yourself." He ordered the confused boy.  
  
Ryou caught on to what Bakura was insinuating, and he gasped. "No! You can't! They're not even after you! It's me they want..you don't know what they'll _do_ to you!" He stuttered madly, looking at the tomb robber pleadingly. The taller boy's face hardened.  
  
"Actually, I have a pretty good idea of what they'll do." He admitted, shrugging. Ryou looked at Bakura in horror. "I'm not letting you get caught, Ryou." He said quietly, guiding the smaller boy to a crack between the wall and a large water barrel. "You have a chance at a future..a chance to really be someone. I'm not going to let anyone take that away from you." Bakura told the other boy softly.  
  
Normally; he would have never said anything like this...but he'd never get to see Ryou again, would he? And in the short time he'd known the runaway; he'd grown attached. Too attached. And it would kill him to lose Ryou.  
  
Ryou was carefully being hidden under rag blankets, pressed between the wall and barrel, and invisible to the naked eye. "Don't go. Please, don't go. I don't want them to catch you..please, Bakura!" He pleaded, clutching the tomb robber's dagger tightly to his chest.  
  
"No." Bakura said resolutely. "I'm not letting you go back. I can pull off as you. If Malik's right...they shouldn't be able to tell the difference. They really do just generalize. As long as I don't talk---which I don't really think will be an issue-I should be fine. And so should you."  
  
He stared down at the boy for a split second before turning towards the alley exit; where he could here the footsteps of the soldiers rushing to apprehend him. "Good-bye, Ryou. Let Bastet with you.[5]" He murmured. His hand brushed Ryou's cheek in what may have been an accidental sign of affection. Ryou didn't care; it was contact.  
  
The smaller boy shuddered in his hiding place as he felt hot tears run down his face, streaking the oil. From a small split in one of the rags covering him; he could see Bakura run headlong into the guards with feigned terror. Or maybe it wasn't feigned. Ryou couldn't tell.  
  
Al he knew was that the shout Bakura gave when he was restrained by two stone-faced guards crushed something inside him, and the flow of tears increased.  
  
And so Ryou watched in horror as Bakura was dragged away struggling, from the alley...and towards a life much worse than that which he could ever imagine. When the shouts had faded to echoes, and the laughter to silence; Ryou sobbed.  
  
He cried openly, still hidden. He cried for himself. He cried for his friends. But most of all; he cried for Bakura. As a last, desperate hope, he sent a prayer to the Gods. 'Oh Bastet; watch over and protect him. Please.'  
  
Ryou shoved his way out of his hiding place and stumbled a few steps before regaining his footing. Then; one thought crossed his mind, and imbedded itself there, screaming for him to obey; 'Find Malik; he'll know what to do.'  
  
So Ryou took off.  
  
  
  
__________  
  
  
  
[1]-For those of you who are currently uninformed; Set was a very..unique, Egyptian god. In this fic; he's just used as a bit of humour. He was often considered the God of homosexuality. *sighs* Do me a favour, ne? Tell me if I've crossed the line between sane and truthfully telling the cops 'but the elf _told_ me to burn it!'  
  
[2]-Perfume was used regularly by both genders. Seeing as how baths were few and far between, and Egypt was as hot as hell; people often developed quite an..odourous problem. So perfume was used not only for superficial reasons; but for practical reasons, too. So in short; IT'S NOT WEIRD.  
  
[3]-Why, do you ask? For filler purposes only. And it adds to the fic later on in the chapter; as you saw.  
  
[4]-Rex Raptor=Dinosaur Ryuzaki Weevil Underwood=Insector Haga. Why add these two? Once again; for filler.  
  
[5]-Bastet is the Egyptian goddess of protection. Quite a sweet gesture from Bakura-san, don't you think?  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Review, please! 


	4. Deceptions and New Chances

Disclaimer: You people have now (hopefully) taken the time to read the preceding three chapters, ne? In each of these chapters, I clearly stated that I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh. For those of you too lazy and/or stupid to accept that (or if you're a lawyer), here it is once more: I don't own Yu- Gi-Oh or any of its characters. Happy?  
  
A/N: Firstly; I thank all of you who sympathized with me over having to rewrite and rewrite. It was a royal pain, but I'm glad I did it. And I'm guessing you're glad I did, too, aren't you?^__^ Secondly, I'd like to make the following statement: I, regrettably, cannot make each chapter a mirror file of the others. This means some will be longer than others. Please bear with me, and I apologize for any inconvenience. Finally, congratulations to those of you who figured out/hoped that Malik has a plan. But then again, we all knew he would, now didn't we? *narrows eyes and chuckles wickedly* Oh yes, we still have much Malik-glomp-Bakura to come. Mwahahaha...  
  
You have all..well, most, at any rate...been accepting of Yami's new, insinuated disposition. But I think for some of you, that was only because he wasn't actually presented in the fic yet. In this chapter he shows up, and he's not exactly pleasant to Bakura. I'd really rather not have to go through flames from raging Yami fans about his 'cruelness'. Please make a note that he was, at one time, Pharaoh, and that gave him ultimate power and killed his conscience. Even the kindest Pharaoh saw a slave as nothing more than a toy/piece of property. So it's all justified. *smiles*  
  
Now read! And don't poke me!!!!!!! (This is directed at one specific reader. You know who you are..)  
  
  
  
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Ryou outran the wind as he rushed towards Malik's house, mentally making sure he followed Bakura's guide. Surrounding him were walls and booths, and only metres away were the same streets that he and his companion had been walking down happily only moments before. They didn't seem to be so pleasant anymore.  
  
The friendly groups of citizens now seemed to crowd in on him, hindering his progress to his destination, and barricading him in the open. Their formerly uninterested glances had been twisted into menacing scowls, and he felt that all eyes were watching him ominously as he tried to struggle his way through the crowds.  
  
He shoved his way through the people, and, thinking he'd caught a glimpse of the decrepit roof of the thief's house, he sped up. Sweat beaded on him, causing his torso, arms, and most other parts of his body to streak, as the protective oils were washed away.  
  
Ryou had no doubt that he must have made a strange sight, but he really couldn't care less. A drop of sweat ran into his eye, and mixed with the salty tears there. It stung his eye, and he had to blink rapidly, causing him to momentarily lose sight of his goal. This was his mistake.  
  
He crashed heavily into earthenware, shattering bread bowls and platters, and causing chaos. He screamed an apology to the apoplectic storeowner, and threw as much gold as he could find in his pouch to the distraught man, who accepted them after a final glare to the rapidly disappearing youth.  
  
At the end of the street, he caught sight of the dilapidated dwelling. It looked grungy and seedy, but it was Ryou's newfound sanctuary..he hoped. His feet pounded and ached from running so hard, so fast, and the treacherous heat of the noon-hour sun was causing Ryou's vision to warp and twist, disorienting him terribly. He found his way to the house, leaning against the wall and scurrying along it, bracing himself against the rickety door.  
  
He remembered that Malik only let people who knocked the code into his house. He didn't, however, remember what the code _was_. The wicked heat, combined with a numbing shock, had shattered his memory to the underworld and back, leaving it in shambles, where only the smallest ruins could be identified.  
  
Ryou cursed, for the first time in a long while, and banged his fists against the door. The wood bent and groaned under the impact, but didn't break. Ryou wailed and banged against it again, this time harder. This time, it splintered. Tiny sticks of razor sharp wood slashed paths through Ryou's hands and into his flesh as he pummeled the door.  
  
Footsteps were heard from inside the house, and Ryou paused, waiting for the door to open. It didn't. "Open the damned door!" Ryou shrieked. His voice was cracked and hoarse, and he barely recognized it as his own. Apparently, neither did Malik.  
  
"And whom shall I be opening my door to, if I choose to?" Malik inquired coldly from the other side of the splintered wood. Ryou could feel a cold smirk emanating from behind the wood, and he sobbed.  
  
"Malik, it's me..." He said hoarsely. Ryou breathed deeply, needing the air desperately. "Please, let me in. I..I...I can't remember the knock combination." He admitted breathily. The air whooshed out of his lungs at the end of his confession, and he coughed as the sensation of hot, dry breath exiting his mouth. Muscle spasms and exhaustion caused his legs to give way, and he fell into Malik's arms, not a second after the door opened.  
  
The sandy-haired boy grunted with the sudden weight, and he dragged Ryou into the house quickly, and, shutting the door behind him, deposited him on the floor.  
  
He clucked his tongue reprimandingly, smiling cheerily as Ryou gasped for breath, oil and clean sweat mixing and dripping off his shaking form. "I told you two not to stay out for too long, or that oil would wash off, and it hot as hell out there today, as well, and-" Malik stopped mid-speech, the smiling fading from his face. He seemed to have caught on that something was wrong. "-Where's Bakura?" He asked cautiously, kneeling next to Ryou.  
  
Deep chocolate eyes met violet ones, and Ryou began crying. He didn't make a sound this time..just let the tears fall. "He..he's been captured. He took my place as Pharaoh's slave. He's been taken to the palace. Oh, Malik, what are we going to do?!" He moaned, choking on his own words. They slipped out of his mouth so easily, but they lingered on his tongue and mind, and spread like poison through him.  
  
Malik's face became stony and passive, and to those who weren't looking, it probably would have seemed he didn't care. But his eyes were sparkling with welling tears, and his bottom lip trembled, just a little, as he rubbed Ryou's back comfortingly.  
  
"Come on, get up." Malik said softly. He didn't let Ryou get up. Rather, he picked him up, and, cradling him as one would a baby, he led him into a bedroom and laid him to rest on the mattress.  
  
It was soft and light, and Ryou melted against its cool fabric. Tears still spilled, though, and he huddled up on the bed, into a fetal position, hiding from Malik, hiding from the world, hiding from reality. He'd done this so many times before..hid from everything. It always helped calm him. Then again, it also helped him rethink his errs. He sobbed softly. 'He sacrificed himself for me. Now he's lost, and it's all my fault.'  
  
'All my fault. He's gone, and it's all my fault. My fault, my fault, I should be gone, my fault, I should die, my fault, my fault, I hope I'm punished forever for this, my fault my fault my faul-'  
  
His mantra was interrupted by Malik's hands, firmly uncurling Ryou and bringing him back to the present time. The boy's face was still stony, but something else was odd. Malik's eyes were red, and the faintest streaks could be made out against his caramel skin. He'd been crying. But he wasn't anymore.  
  
No, this was a totally different Malik. This was the one whom he'd seen when he was apologizing that morning, over breakfast.  
  
The Gods be damned, had that only been a few hours ago? Was it true that, just a few hours ago he been smiling and talking and thinking that a whole new, better life was starting? How quickly his new world had been crushed.  
  
Malik's eyes became wise again, his face hard and cold. He once again became too old for his young years, but it gave comfort to Ryou. There was someone stronger here now. Someone stronger here, to help him. To take care of things. Just like there had been in the desert last night, with Bakura holding Ryou's hand, warming his palm.  
  
Bakura had told him, while they were wandering, 'you seem like you're afraid of the night itself.'  
  
Ryou had replied, embarrassed 'I just like knowing that there's someone strong around..'  
  
Pause.  
  
'You make it seem like you think you're weak.'  
  
'I am weak.'  
  
Another awkward pause.  
  
'Why do you say that?'  
  
Ryou hadn't replied, though a thousand answers flooded his mind, and touched his tongue. He had bit them back.  
  
'You're not weak.' Bakura had said grudgingly. But his voice had been sincere.  
  
Ryou had smiled, contemplating whether his new companion spoke the truth. Then he had let go of Bakura's hand..  
  
A sudden pain exploded inside his chest, and Ryou doubled over from it. He felt Malik's hand on his shoulder, silently asking if he was alright. "My..heart.." He gasped, writhing in pain, and out of Malik's cold grasp. He wanted Bakura.  
  
"You're having a heart attack!?" Malik gasped, looking at Ryou in unhidden concern. Ryou managed to look up at the other boy and shake his head.  
  
"N-no." He said, through clenched teeth. "There's..something..wrong..with Bakura!" He said, staring at Malik, but not seeing him. What he saw was Bakura's face, tear-streaked and covered in blood. Blood everywhere. And then, even he was engulfed in darkness.  
  
Ryou screamed in an excruciating pain. He screamed for a long time.  
  
But he didn't scream alone.  
  
It had taken them less time than expected to get to the palace. Or maybe it had taken exactly the right amount of time, but Bakura just hadn't noticed. He'd been busy. Pray, swear, kick, scream, pray, swear, kick, scream. It had led him to a black eye and a sick stomach. In that order.  
  
Shortly after entering the palace and being shown to the Pharaoh, complete with-a quite noticeable, mind you-black eye. He'd been witness to a very gruesome 'punishment'. Apparently, the Pharaoh didn't like his 'toys being damaged', as he had put it. This had brought about the idea of spitting at the Pharaoh, but he'd thought better of it. After a quick apology from the soldier who had hit Bakura, Pharaoh had ordered the man to give him his spear. Bakura knew that this was usually followed by the spear being broken in two, symbolizing the soldier's release from his job. But usually doesn't mean always.  
  
Shortly after inspecting the spear rather carefully, Pharaoh had turned to the soldier. "Do you keep it sharp and ready for battle at all times?" He asked the scared soldier. The man had nodded.  
  
A wicked smile had spread across the Pharaoh's face. "Alright. Then allow me to test it." He had skewered the man. Not just stabbed him, but _skewered_ him. Bakura held back a gasp as he saw the end of the spear protrude from the small of the man's back, covered in blood and tissue. And what could have possibly been bone.  
  
Blood flooded from the man's mouth, and his eyes bulged and rolled back into his skull as he fell to the ground, dead. Breakfast had made a valiant effort to escape him, but the tomb robber locked his jaw and forced his stomach to settle.  
  
Things weren't looking too good for Bakura as the Pharaoh ordered the head guard-the same one who had chased him before he'd met Ryou..Jounouchi, he believed was the guard's name-to bring him to the Pharaoh's personal chambers.  
  
Bakura prayed, for the first time in a long time. He prayed for a hope he had been robbed of as a child. He prayed for a quick demise. But prayers are not answered to tomb robbers who want a break..  
  
Malik shook Ryou gently, looking at him worriedly as he calmed down, and his screams diminished to a soft, shallow stream of sobs. "What did you see?" The violet-haired boy asked, looking into the other's eyes pleadingly.  
  
Ryou himself couldn't find the words to describe his...vision, was it? But a nameless, strange force, deep inside him, fed him words, and they slid over his tongue and out of his mouth as easily as silk over skin. "It was nameless." He told Malik, his sight returning to normal, the darkness fading. "It is what has been, is, and what will be."  
  
Malik looked utterly confused. "I don't understand..."  
  
"It is pain. I saw Bakura's pain." Ryou said, his eyes clouding over. Shock was setting in; curling up in Ryou's every muscle, every thought. It released a sleeping potion into him, and his eyes closed. He began fading.  
  
The sandy haired one worried his lip in bemusement. "Bakura's pain? He must be hurt bad." Malik guessed.  
  
Ryou managed one more thought before oblivion took him. Before he was brought to a hellish world of aristocratic luxury, where nothing was worth striving for, unless it was immediate and lovely. A world where he himself was a pawn, a toy, and his life was one of solitude and sex, draining him physically and mentally, and emotionally, leaving him uncaring and scarred both in body and mind. This was the world he had known before he'd escaped. This was the world Bakura would know. This was where Bakura would-"Die." He whispered.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Bakura...he's dying. Something new...something new is coming. It's very old. It's already here...part of Bakura is dying.." He murmured, finally giving up and letting himself be dragged into his nightmare.  
  
Malik did not try to awaken the exhausted boy. He knew it was hopeless. Ryou was gone, riding a river of dreams, where he was alone, and descending into an abyss. Besides...he needed his sleep.  
  
Malik nodded to himself and walked away from the silver-haired boy. He walked to where he kept his stash. Gold, a dagger, a couple of maps, and some drugged liquor. He would need all of it. But none of it was as important as Ryou's help would be.  
  
He glanced over at a wet linen sac shoved in a corner of the large main room. It was full of the fruits of Bakura's last theft. Malik was quite sure it would be brimming with priceless items. He hadn't touched them. He wouldn't, either.  
  
Slinging his own pack over one shoulder, he set off into the hellish noon- hour heat, heading towards the river. To set off the first phase of his plan.  
  
He _would_ see Bakura again..alive. No matter what the cost.  
  
  
  
The tomb robber walked around the room, lost and, despite himself, in awe. Never, even in his wildest dreams, had he imagined how lavish and utterly _gorgeous_ the palace would be. But from all that he'd seen, none could compare to the Pharaoh's chambers. All the thin silk, shipped from the Orient. The marble and alabaster. The thick rugs and rich artifacts and treasures that littered the room, like leaves that littered the green forests that Malik had told him of, years ago. When they'd been children full of hopes and dreams and an almost untarnished innocence.  
  
It was all put to shame by this room. However, Bakura merely noted, not enjoyed. He was pacing the room, looking desperately for any sort of hiding place. Any hidden nook or cranny. There was nothing.  
  
Bakura felt a small whimper come from him, and he cursed himself for it. He didn't regret it, though. He was alone and, despite his calm composure, scared half to death.  
  
He had been walked through what had seemed like an endless maze of limestone and alabaster hallways, up stairs, down corridors, until he and the head guard (his name was Jounouchi, Bakura was now sure) had stopped in front of two large, looming double doors. They smelled sweet, like fresh cedar. The scent made Bakura sick. This was positively horrifying.  
  
The tomb robber had then been shoved into the room and had the heavy double doors closed behind him. A dull thud had told him that a block of wood had sealed the doors shut from the outside. He was trapped.  
  
The chamber was large and imposing. It possessed a dark, sensual quality to it that worried Bakura deeply. Rich crimsons and indigos coloured the walls and ceiling of the room, and these were accented with silks made of the finest silks and cottons possible. The floor was marble, smooth and cool. Blue-grey and scarlet-brown swirled beneath his feet, on the marble, creating grotesque characters that Bakura tried to avoid looking at.  
  
In the centre of the room, an obscenely large canopy bed stood, semi- transparent silk surrounding and veiling the bed itself. A sizable box stood beside the bed. Bakura had ventured to look in it, but it had a black cotton cover on it, and the inside smelled of blood and something else, and it churned Bakura's stomach, halting his curiosity.  
  
Besides. He had a feeling he knew what was in the box.  
  
The only light in the room was given by strategically placed candles that were carefully out of easy reach of human hands. The faint remains of a small burn on one of the many silk draperies told him why.  
  
Bakura wanted to see the sun. The dark, lustful surroundings made his entire body squirm in unease, and he felt like an animal in a cage. He wanted a window. He focused his attention on a spot high on a wall that he was sure was all that separated him from clean air and sunshine.  
  
He gave up searching for an exit. The oppressive feeling about the room told him it was hopeless. He just concentrated on the wall, imagining a large window there that let cool air and the scent of the city below into the room. The musty smell inside the room was bothering him. It sapped away at something deep inside him, and drained his energy.  
  
It was the smell of love and hate and the passion of the two mixed together. It was the smell of blood and salty tears. It smelled of countless lotions and leather and phantom remains of sweet incense. It all put the tomb robber on edge, and filled his gut with a sticky feeling of bad things to come.  
  
He let his vision blur as he stared at the would-be-window wall.  
  
Then, he heard a sound. Not loud, not sudden. Just...soft, and somehow ominous. Like a death toll. Bakura swiveled in shock as the heavy double doors parted, just a fraction, and the Pharaoh slipped in.  
  
He was garbed in the softest clothes, and wore his ridiculous headdress. He also had a serene look on his face. Bakura glared at him, meeting his gaze evenly. The Pharaoh's eyes were purple, like Malik's. But Malik's were a lively, clever violet. These new purple eyes were the colour of poisoned lavender. A sad remain of something that had, once upon a time, been beautiful.  
  
Pharaoh smiled at him, an eerie sort of smirk. A 'cat-has-the-mouse' sort of smile. Bakura's gaze unconsciously dropped in submission. Pharaoh kept smiling, though it looked a bit bemused.  
  
Bakura had never liked the Pharaoh. Though most thought him righteous and just, Bakura knew better. Every pharaoh was the same. They had the power to do anything, and they abused that power to their desires.  
  
Bakura felt Pharaoh's eyes wandering over him, taking him in. "You're dirty." He pointed out flatly, frowning. Bakura looked down at himself and scowled. The oil he'd used was streaked with sweat, and overall it gave him a zebra-like appearance.  
  
The pharaoh brushed back a golden bang behind his ear, and laughed softly. It was a mocking sound that haunted Bakura, and gripped some almost forgotten part of him in fear. Bakura, not wanting to look into the Pharaoh's sickeningly dark lavender eyes, went back to staring at the wall.  
  
From behind him, a soft sigh swept through the room. It was the sigh of someone having to endure an endless argument. "You're still not bothering about _that_, are you?" The Pharaoh's deep, rich voice asked. Bakura, not quite sure what he was talking about, decidedly kept silent.  
  
It was apparently a fairly good move, for he was still standing a few seconds later, unharmed. Quiet footsteps sounded behind him, until he could feel the Pharaoh's presence right behind him. They were about the same height, though Pharaoh was, perhaps, an inch taller. "I'm not going to get a window put in." Came the silky voice, slightly amused.  
  
Unknown to the Pharaoh, Bakura's eyes widened in shock. Could he read thoughts?! Bakura had, like any other street-wise youth, heard the tales. The stories of the Pharaoh's incredible, unsurpassable powers in the shadow realm. But he'd always dismissed them as lore and campfire tales, meant to burn a person's sleeping mind with bad dreams.  
  
"You've been sulking for a month, but I don't want to wreck my chambers. If you want more light, though, perhaps I could get more candles.." The Pharaoh offered softly, brushing Bakura's hair to one side, and pressing his lips to the nape of the tomb robber's neck. Not exactly a kiss. A promise of more to come.  
  
Bakura shivered in horror and disgust at the touch. He thought he had escaped this already. He didn't want to be back here. Why was he back here, anyway? Different master, but the same situation. Why was this?  
  
'Because you couldn't stand the thought of little Ryou being tortured by this monster.' He said, answering his own question. It tightened his resolve, and made him swell slightly with an odd pride. He had saved Ryou. Now, if only he'd had enough time to say good-bye properly.  
  
A headdress and an outer garment fell to the floor behind Bakura. Then, warm arms encircled him, clasping him gently. The Pharaoh propped his head on Bakura's shoulders, and looked into his eyes. "You look different, somehow.." He murmured into Bakura's ear.  
  
The tomb robber's entire body tensed up. Was he about to be found out? He couldn't let that happen. If he was found out, they'd start looking for Ryou again. He opened his mouth, searching his words for an explanation. The Pharaoh didn't wait for one before chuckling softly and pressing Bakura closer to him. Bakura kept his face stony. "A day outside in the world can change a person very much, can't it?" He asked gently.  
  
Bakura nodded his agreement. He wasn't lying, either. It could. The last day had changed him..a lot. Though he didn't like to admit it.  
  
The Pharaoh chuckled again, and ran his hands over Bakura's chest. More oil smeared, but the Pharaoh didn't seem to mind. "I missed you, you know." He whispered to Bakura, his voice heavy with emotion of the most feral, primal nature.  
  
The tomb robber purposefully softened his voice, and talked in a whisper, hoping it would mimic Ryou's own ethereal voice. "I'm sorry, your highness." He said. For effect that almost made him vomit, he brought his hands up and tentatively placed them over the Pharaoh's, a sign of submission and apology. He would play his part, for Ryou's sake.  
  
The Pharaoh sighed and clasped Bakura's hands in his own, caressing them lightly. "I know you're sorry. You'll be even sorrier soon. Sorry enough, I hope, to not pull a disappearing act like that again." He said. It was more of a warning than a request, judging by his tone. "But don't call me that. You know I want you to call me by name. Titles won't help you. I still want you to call me Yami." He said, lightly kissing Bakura's shoulder.  
  
The tomb robber clenched his teeth tightly and fought the instinct to pull away and clock the Pharaoh. The other felt his body tense up, and chuckled quietly. "Do you regret leaving?" He asked. "Be honest."  
  
Bakura could neither nod nor shake his head. It was a bad move.  
  
"You don't?" The Pharaoh asked lightly, looking slightly, falsely hurt. "That's alright. I'll make you regret it." He promised gently. Bakura swallowed hard. He didn't like where this was going.  
  
The Pharaoh began slowly rocking from side to side, bringing Bakura into the rhythm, like some sort of strange, slow dance. It held all the innocence of a baby's cradle rocking. "People who do bad things get punished, don't they?" The Pharaoh asked Bakura, looking deeply into his eyes.  
  
Bakura thought about several possible responses. His favourite being 'Really? Then your father must have killed a lot of people to be stuck with you for a son!' This probably wouldn't help his situation any. The tomb robber sufficed with a demure 'Yes'.  
  
"And tell me, Miw-sher[1], was running away a bad thing?"  
  
Bakura tensed his body again. The thought of 'what the hell did he just call me?!' passed through his mind, followed closely by rage, humiliation, and grief all rolled into one. Rage and humiliation for having been called by such a demeaning pet-name, and grief for knowing that Ryou had endured it all, a million times over. He bit back a growl and answered the Pharaoh's question with a nod. He knew it was the answer that bastard wanted.  
  
Yami nuzzled the side of Bakura's neck, and, with a sound half way between a moan and a sigh, he let his hands slip down, lower on Bakura's body. The tomb robber shut his eyes tightly and hissed softly, forcing himself to let the Pharaoh continue. His fingers twitched, aching to get a grasp around Yami's warm neck and choke every bit of air out of him. And just maybe drag bits of that corrupted soul out with the air, too. Leave him shattered. Bakura comforted himself with these thoughts as the Pharaoh deftly ran his hands over what he thought was Ryou's lithe body.  
  
"Tell me, Miw-sher, what have you learned from our talk?" He asked Bakura gently, smiling and laughing at him through half-lidded eyes, as his hands groped and grasped. He sounded as though he was talking to a small child, and Bakura bit back a long string of swears. He forced himself to revert back to Ryou's soft, shy, tentative voice, and tried to sound as apologetic as he could. This was shredding his dignity to hell.  
  
"People who do bad things must be punished." He started, waiting. The Pharaoh nodded approvingly and waited for him to continue. Knowing he was following the right road, Bakura choked out the rest of his babyish relay, still being rocked in rhythm with Yami. "I ran away...that was a bad thing.." He trailed off and prayed again.  
  
"And what does all that mean, my pretty little Miw-sher?"  
  
The tomb robber simmered under his skin in hatred at the phrase. 'I'm not yours, you evil little bastard. May you rot in the afterlife for all eternity, and never forget what you've done.' He told the Pharaoh silently. But he forced himself to answer Yami's question in the same soft, babyish voice that, he now noticed, made the Pharaoh smile every time he heard it. This was probably the voice Ryou used on him, too. Sounding innocent and lost probably gave Yami some sort of feeling of having complete power. He repressed a shudder and a curse. "It means.." He thought for a minute, faltering. "It means that I must be punished." He said quietly and quickly, through tightly clenched teeth.  
  
Yami smiled serenely and nodded before unlocking himself from Bakura. "You're exactly right." He told the tomb robber.  
  
Bakura waited to see what was going to happen.  
  
Yami's smile turned slowly from serene to cruel. Anticipating, and swimming in a laziness born only of when one was preparing for ecstasy unparallel to any other before it. "Get on your knees for me, Miw-sher."  
  
  
  
"Ryou, get up."  
  
Nothing.  
  
"Get up, Ryou. Now."  
  
Still nothing.  
  
"Get up, you dumb shit!" Malik yelled, smacking the sleeping boy across the head with his hand. Not too hard, but hard enough.  
  
Ryou gasped and bolted upright, looking around in confusion, fear, and amazement. He didn't seem, at first, to recognize where he was, but eventually the gleam in his eyes died and he sighed in relief. Rubbing his head, he muttered something vaguely insulting, and Malik smiled softly. "Sorry, but you weren't waking up." He said, shrugging.  
  
Ryou stumbled from the bed and immediately fell to the floor in a heap, yelping in surprise. Malik sighed, though not in annoyance, and carefully helped Ryou up, allowing him(quite happily) to lean against him.  
  
"What happened?" Ryou asked. His voice was still hoarse and cracked, and his face showed signs of crying in his sleep.  
  
"I'm guessing you've never really had the opportunity for much.erm..outdoor exercise, right?" He asked Ryou tentatively. The silver-haired boy nodded. "Thought so. Your legs aren't used to the workout you gave them with all the running you've done today. Your muscles aren't very strong. They're probably hurting badly, right?" He inquired, leading Ryou down a hallway.  
  
Once again, Ryou nodded. His mind was elsewhere, still mourning.  
  
"Thought so." Malik said again without much care. It seemed that his mind was wandering, too. Though he didn't look sad or upset at all...just thoughtful. This perturbed Ryou deeply. "Let's get you in a salted bath. Come on, we don't have much time before we have to go." He said, almost cheerily.  
  
"What? Go? Go where?" Ryou asked, now completely lost. He worried his bottom lip while Malik's clever eyes lit up in happiness as they entered a room with a rather large tub in it.  
  
"To rescue Bakura, of course! What else?!" He asked heartily, his eyes still shining brightly. "Now get in!" He said.  
  
Ryou whooped for joy as he was pushed into the tub.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
[1]Miw-sher- Well, no one can say I don't do my research. *sighs* I'm such a sucker for pointless details. Miw-sher was, in Ancient Egypt, most commonly used as boy's given name. However, I found that it could also be used as a pet-name/nickname, and I thought it would add to the story a little. When translated, it means 'kitten'. Lovely detail, isn't it?  
  
-To Hikaru-san: I'll check up on Set's rule, alright? If we have different information on his rule, one of us has been misinformed. (Probably me. -_-)  
  
  
  
Review, please! You people are the blood to this fic. Without you, it cannot go on. And we don't want it do die, now do we? 


	5. Of Waiting and Despair

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh or any of its characters. I do, however, own the plot to this fic. So if you steal the plot, well...you'll regret it. Deeply.  
  
A/N: I give my sincere apologies for the horribly long wait. I hope deeply that this chapter will be a good enough compensation.  
  
You people really didn't seem too happy about that last chapter. Was it because you didn't like the pairing, or just wanted BakuraxRyou stuff? Well, if that's the case, you're just going to have to wait. But fear not; it'll come eventually. Oh yes, it will come. Mwahaha.. *looks out at all the blank-faced readers* But for this chapter, you're just going to have to settle for YamixBakura. ^__^ It's not that bad, is it?  
  
An inquiry came to me via review that bugged me. I myself had been considering it, but I'd really rather put it to a VOTE. Please leave your vote in your review, ne? Do you want Yugi to show up? Do you? Tell me, damn it!!!!! Majority wins, so vote extremist style!  
  
*sighs* I thought I was pushing the PG-13 rating just a bit too hard, so I decided to upgrade...just to be safe.  
  
WARNINGS: Those of you who are strongly opposed to YamixBakura implied NCS should probably skip the parts on it. I really don't feel like getting flames about the injustice of it all. -_-  
  
To Fyredra-san: It would be quite demeaning for Bakura because it insinuates ownership. It its essence; it would make Bakura feel like a pet. A toy. Something meant for amusement and loved in a degrading way, like one would love, say, a hamster.  
  
To Hikaru-san: What makes you think they're not separate? I don't recollect saying anywhere in here that Yami Malik won't show up. *narrows eyes* It's unwise to assume things when there is no evidence to support your claim. Even when it _is_ insinuated. Normal Malik(if one could even call him normal..) can be serious too, you know! *stalks off to go load up on store- bought cappuccino*  
  
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Bakura's entire body shook as he wretched. He was in the immaculately clean side-washroom that was connected to the Pharaoh's chambers. Alone, thank Ra. He'd been left a little while ago, for Pharaoh had had a meeting to attend. Bloody, slashed, and torn, he'd dragged himself to the washroom and proceeded to slump over the piped washing basin. Nausea had twisted his stomach, and he'd felt so damn _dirty_.  
  
The second he had positioned himself over the sink, he'd thrown up. Breakfast, at first. Unhappy and refusing to give up, he'd made himself throw up once more. This time, a stinging sensation had run up his throat as he'd vomited white, sticky liquid. It had burned his mouth and throat on the way down, and even more so on the way back up. But it was going to be worth it. To be a little cleaner.  
  
A third and fourth time had brought up seed once again, mixed slightly with bile. The fifth time, he'd had to force himself to throw up. A tiny amount had come up, and he'd spat it out. The sixth time, it was mostly bile. Most would have given up then, but Bakura could still feel some inside his stomach. Salty and hot, it sickened to have that in him, and hadn't had to force himself again.  
  
Countless moments of coughing had brought up the last bit. With his stomach empty, Bakura felt better. Cleaner. A miniscule shred of pride managed to wisp its way near the needle of his heart and attached itself there.  
  
The tomb robber raised himself from the sink and looked into a mirror. Candlelight was once again the source of visibility. In the mirror, shadow's danced across Bakura's torn, tired face. It pressed circles under his eyes, and lines around his bloody mouth. It shadowed his eyes themselves..or did it?  
  
Bakura grabbed a candle nearby and brought it close against the mirror and his face. With the new light, the circles under his eyes and the lines disappeared, figments and demons chased away by light. But the shadow in his eyes remained. Though light should have reflected in the tomb robber's deep brown yes, it didn't. As if something shielded his eyes from the light and its comfort, Bakura's eyes dulled and misted over slightly.  
  
Bakura hissed in anger and threw the candle across the marble room. It crashed against the far wall, its wax splattering and cracking, its flame dying. A thin, almost invisible wisp of smoke rose from the dead light- giver. It was dull and blackish-grey. It was like the mist in Bakura's eyes.  
  
The silver-haired boy returned to the mirror and balled his fists, rubbing at his eyes harshly. When he looked again, they looked the same. Haunted and cold, clouded over. Lifeless.  
  
It was the room. It was breaking him. He knew it had to be the room. The Pharaoh's chamber, with all it's pain. It's terrible pain. Pure pain, from lashings and skilled hands wielding knives, from torturous laughter and beatings, quick and merciless. Twisted pain, from caresses and soft words and those same skilled hands running deftly over his torn body. Deep pain, from weeping in front of Pharaoh, and the dishonour of having his tears kissed away. From Pharaoh's essence inside him, from being belonged to. It was all sapping the life from him. As it had done to Ryou, before him.  
  
Bakura wept once more, in the silence and semi-darkness of the Pharaoh's washroom. He slid to the tile floor in a sobbing mess, wracked with pain from everywhere in him, from his face to his heart to his blackened, weakened, beaten soul. He wept for Ryou, and for himself. He would live out his days here, he was almost sure. But that's all they would be, was days.  
  
He would kill himself before long, he thought. In a few days, he would take the dagger he saw Pharaoh hide in the black-topped box and slide it through first the Pharaoh's throat, choking him with cold metal, then shove it into his chest. Yes, Bakura would die as he felt; his heart torn. That's what he had comforted himself with earlier.  
  
But how would he know when days had passed? He had asked himself. How would he tell when the sun was just rising, and he would be able to die with Ra's presence rising outside, warming the earth itself? For within the crimson walls, time was lost. Each minute of pain felt like a day in itself. Each moment of the Pharaoh's ministrations and lust was an entire eternity, ripping through him. An endless spiral of hate and pain and finally, resignation. And each second that was waited, waiting and watching to see when the next round of pain was. Oh, that was a terrible agony indeed.  
  
Bakura sobbed some more, though no tears would fall. He had cried himself dry earlier. So with resignation and...fear, he told himself spitefully. With resignation and fear, he stumbled back into Yami's chamber and collapsed upon a soft rug. He liked this rug, he told himself as he rolled onto his side on it. It was the only thing in the entire damn room that didn't smell of power or aristocracy or blood. It smelled of wool and sand and lotus flowers, for some odd reason.  
  
Then he fell into a doze, long needed and awaited for.  
  
'Are you sorry now?' Yami's rich voice asked the bloody figure before him. Hot red lines, made from the finest whip, laced Bakura's back, stinging him deeply. They oozed blood, and it trickled down from the boy's back, and dripped onto the marble floor, pooling.  
  
'Yes!' He yelled, not caring anymore about pride or honour or what the hell he was doing. Shock had long set in, crazing his mind. All he knew was that he was in pain, and all he had to do to stop the pain was do whatever Pharaoh wanted.  
  
'Do you want the pain to end? Have you had enough?' Yami asked him, his voice sounding as though it was pained to see the silver-haired boy go through this. Like he had seen it too many times.  
  
'Yes! Oh Ra, yes!' He sobbed. Tears mixed with blood, and ran down Bakura's face in an obscene twisted river of pink. Tears had not fallen from that face in years. Still on his knees, Bakura felt so weak, so tired. He collapsed to the floor, staining his front in his own blood. His fingers twitched as he tried hard to get back up. It was hopeless. 'Please..please make it end.' He pleaded. Shock clouded his mind, brought him down to an infantile state. Pain wasn't tolerable. The pain had to end.  
  
'Come to me, Miw-sher, and I will make the pain end.' The silky voice promised him steadily, softly.  
  
Bakura rose from the floor with a strength found only by desperation, and ran to the Pharaoh quickly, before his legs gave out. No sooner than he reached out towards the Pharaoh did his legs buckle, and fell into warm, waiting arms. Groaning in pain, exhaustion, and faint humiliation, he relaxed into the embrace, for it was all he could do.  
  
'Poor little one..' Yami whispered to him gently, picking him up and bringing him to the large canopy bed. Here, Bakura was placed carefully against the soft silk sheets, his head rested against a velvety pillow. Even splayed out on the bed, he still left plenty of room....more than half the bed was still clear. It made him feel small and vulnerable, but those where ghosts of thoughts. The main consideration now was the fact that the pain had slowed. The sharpness fading to an ache. 'This is only a break, though, you know. Later, your punishment will continue.'  
  
Bakura grimaced, but said nothing.  
  
'And so it will continue until I feel you have suffered enough. Or until you prove to me that you've suffered enough.' Yami added softly. Bakura opened his eyes tiredly and looked up at Yami in tired horror, and raging hatred. Only the horror could be seen by looking into the liquid chocolate pools of Bakura's eyes. The Pharaoh just smiled sadly and brushed the bangs out of Bakura's pain-misted eyes. 'But for now, you will feel pleasure.' He promised.  
  
Pharaoh sat down next to Bakura, who lay helpless and scared on the bed- sheets. Had he been stronger, Bakura would have resisted, would have protested, would have done anything but just lie there and _take_ it.  
  
But he had no choice but to lay still as Yami's hand trailed a path down his jaw-line, his neck, down to his chest, where they paused to ghost over the flesh of his abdomen. Then a mouth joined the hands, placing butterfly kisses over hot skin, while Bakura screamed in rage inside his head. But all the screaming came out as a shiver running down his spine as Yami's hands drew slow circles on his hips through a thin daytime garb. And the Pharaoh laughed and took the sign as encouragement.  
  
'Yes. Soon, all your pain will be gone. Riding on waves of pleasurable ecstasy. You will see..'  
  
Bakura's eyes snapped open, and he balled his hands into the shag rug tightly as his nostrils flared in rage. Was this what Ryou had suffered through? In his heart, Bakura knew it was. Ryou was strong..so much stronger than him.  
  
This was Bakura last thought before he slipped away again into infinity, letting the dream of a new, searing memory, that had happened only...hours? ago ebb away at his resolution of resistance, as he drowned in pools of black water in his mind.  
  
  
  
Ryou gasped for air as he struggled to the surface of the water. His hands clung to the side of the tub, filled with lukewarm water, and he coughed up the soapy, oily stuff. Sputtering and flipping his bangs back, he looked up at Malik in shock. "What was that for?!" He shrieked, referring to the- quite rude, mind you-surprise dunking he'd got just moments before, when Malik had snuck into the room while Ryou was bathing.  
  
The sandy-haired boy laughed. "You had oil in your hair!" He replied heartily, splashing Ryou in the face playfully. The silver-haired boy shook his head vehemently, spraying water everywhere. He went back to washing off his neck while Malik drew patterns on the water's surface. The patterns stayed for a few seconds, preserved by a slight oil coating from all that had washed off Ryou, before disappearing.  
  
Occasionally, Malik would start humming songs of nothing to himself, and splash Ryou, or tug on his hair, or something other to annoy him. Malik didn't like being by himself, especially when he knew it was dangerous. So, unconsciously, he now trailed Ryou everywhere he went, never leaving him be. He'd done the same to Bakura when they'd been children.  
  
And when they'd been reaching that ever-so-tortuous age of 'changings', as the adults called it. And even recently. It was a habit, and Malik did it for comfort, rather than to annoy. Bakura had understood, and had always let him fool around. When Bakura would take a bath-which didn't happen that often, but still-Malik would always be right there, leaning on the edge of the tub, telling Bakura about places he'd been long ago, when he was still belonged to. Or asking unanswerable questions. Or trying to get Bakura drunk. Or sometimes all three. And Bakura always would laugh and give half- answers and pour the liquor onto Malik's head.  
  
And then Malik would somehow end up getting plastered, and would usually fall into the tub, sloshing water everywhere. Bakura would jump out and begin running around like a maniac-usually half drunk himself, and usually stark naked-and would begin singing. Bakura liked singing.  
  
Malik sighed and left the room, leaving Ryou looking after him with a concerned look on his face. Bakura was in pain, Malik knew. It wasn't physical pain, either. Well, not most of it, anyway.  
  
Despite the façade the tomb-robber put on..despite the rough exterior and uncaring disposition and harsh voice, Bakura was very fragile. He was street wise, and knew how to take the pain when he knew it was coming. But he was still delicate. His pride and honour, even his self-esteem, was easy to break. Malik himself had, more then once, accidentally aided to ravage the papyrus-thin structure of Bakura's pride. Shake that mask away. It was quite easy, but Malik didn't usually like the result. Though sometimes..  
  
Malik smiled, reminiscing.  
  
..sometimes, Bakura would smile. Not smirk, or grin, but genuinely smile. And Malik enjoyed Bakura's smiles, even though they came rarely and quickly, and left even quicker. Yes, the tomb robber was lovely when he was truly himself. Almost like Ryou. But not quite.  
  
Malik sighed and checked over the supplies he'd packed, for lack of something better to do. Nostalgia fogged his mind, and he laughed at his own stupidity. "Come on, Malik. Stop your blubbering. You're acting like.." His voice cracked, and he paused to wipe away a sudden wetness trickling from his eyes. "You're acting like you'll never see him again." He told himself, trying to pretend that the prospective was ludicrous.  
  
Somewhere deep inside him, a conflict broke out. Bakura was gone, and yet, Malik was sure he'd see him again.  
  
"Oh Bastet, please protect him. Please." He prayed.  
  
  
  
Bakura vaguely acknowledged a faint buzz flowing through his body. 'Stupid body.' He thought to himself, rebuking it. While his form rode out the final waves of earthly ecstasy, his mind drowned itself in the choppy seas of distracting memory. He remembered childrens' games played with Malik, years ago, when they'd shared the same house. He remembered the sandy- haired boy's stories as they both lay shivering under a thin cotton blanket, huddling together for warmth against the freezing desert nights.[1]  
  
Stories of cascades of water that he fondly called 'waterfalls'. 'They're all over.' He'd told Bakura when he'd scoffed the other boy for what he'd thought were fantasies. Stories of birds that filled the sky with bright colours only found in ochre and dyes. It all calmed Bakura, threw him into a world of whimsy and dreams, where nothing had consequences and everything you did was nothing to the rest of the world.  
  
And this was how he fulfilled the Pharaoh's requests and orders from him, in this world. If he just pretended it all was just a horrible dream. Or if it was someone else.  
  
He'd tried imagining it was Malik first, since he was the first person that came to Bakura's mind. But he found the idea of doing to Malik what he was doing to Pharaoh awful and revolting than doing it to the Pharaoh himself. Malik was his friend! He'd gagged. This had not gone over too well with the Pharaoh.  
  
Ryou, however, was a different story. He could let it happen with Ryou. Hell, he even enjoyed it, almost losing himself in his fantasy. Yes, he didn't mind pleasuring Ryou. The sweet little boy that he'd met only...what was it? Perhaps only two suns ago?  
  
Bakura smiled wryly to himself and licked his lips. 'How quickly you've grown fond of the little one.' He chided himself. 'And look where it landed you. You're a bed slave for life now. You'll never see him again. But you gave up your life to give him a chance to keep his. Your final act was a noble one.' He reassured himself, only half certain of his own words. 'Perhaps it will be enough to let the feather weigh heavier than your heart, you cold bastard.[2]' He told himself grimly. And he was so terribly cold. It was as though the desert night itself was seeping slowly through his soul.  
  
It dulled the burn of crushed pride, and enhanced his primal instincts. It was here that one learned quickly. If you did something wrong; you were punished. Make no mistake; you were punished.  
  
If you did something right, or even pleased, you were rewarded. Well, it was considered a reward. A few minutes rest here or there. Maybe a quick drink of water, or a small bite to eat from Pharaoh's plate. It all seemed so worth it, just for those few precious moments of peace. When the only person near you was you, and the only soft touches your skin felt were your own, checking on how bad a bruise was, or how deep a cut went.  
  
Bakura buried his face in his hands as he heard Pharaoh leave the room. Now he knew how Ryou had felt. Why he was so timid, almost afraid. Afraid of his own shadow. And why he'd looked so tired, so defeated, so...lifeless. This was the life of a doll. A toy.  
  
The tomb robber silently slid out from underneath the bed covers and sunk to his knees, resting against a large wooden chest with a cushioned top. Now he was allowed to rest. In silence, Bakura regained his breath and tested his wounds. All of his lacerations were shallow but painful, his bruises deep and aching. He had long noted that the Pharaoh strayed form hitting him some places. His face, abdomen, and more private areas were safe from the whip and dagger. The rest of him was mottled a collage of black, blue, sickly yellow, and dying green, which in turn faded to black and blue. He was fairly sure he'd broken his ankle while being forced into playing what appeared to be one of Pharaoh's favourite mind games. He was sore in mostly every place in and on his body that he knew about, and sore even in some places he hadn't even known he'd had. But all that aside, he supposed if he was looked upon, he wouldn't look half bad.  
  
He sighed, letting his body relax slightly against the cool cedar wood of the chest. Knots in his back and neck ached and cried in protest, but they were ignored. Now was Bakura's time for calming and preparing. In the moments of blissful silence that came, Bakura was stirred by a rumbling in his stomach, and a painful contraction.  
  
He placed a hand against his bruised gut and sighed. How long had it been since he'd eaten? Malik's generous breakfast seemed years passed. A mouthful of water and a sliver of pomegranate had been all he'd allowed the Pharaoh to feed him before he'd bitten the bastard's hand. That hadn't been wise on his part.  
  
So now Bakura's stomach wailed its hunger, and his entire body protested the lack of drink. He needed something to drink. Something to eat. His mouth was dry; no saliva would come to him, and he coughed experimentally. It was a dry, hollow sound, like wind blowing through dried bamboo stocks. He sighed. Desperation would soon lead him to begging, he knew. It was rare here that you managed to hold onto elusive, rational moments. These were some of those moments when Bakura could think clearly.  
  
But soon he would be back to his act, like Ryou before him. You stayed quiet when you were supposed to, made noise when you knew you were supposed to, and did what you were told. This kept you as pain-free as possible.  
  
Bakura sighed. Yes, soon he would lose his logic and pride once more. And desperation would cloud his judgment. Soon, he would need food and drink. Somehow.  
  
  
  
Ryou wrapped a linen cloth around his waist and padded out into the main room, leaving a trail of damp footsteps behind him. He found Malik hunched over a bag of..well, whatever it was. He couldn't really see, Malik being hunched over it and all. The sandy-haired boy glanced over at Ryou and gave a half-assed attempt at a smile. He tossed the silver-haired boy a fair mass of lightweight, white fabric. Ryou looked at the mass in his arms in bemusement.  
  
"What's this for?" He asked. He brought his nose to the fabric, thinking he'd caught a whiff of something. His nose was suddenly filled with a cold, tad-too-sharp sensation, and he jerked his head away from it, coughing. "And what under the Gods' watch is that smell?" He exclaimed.  
  
Malik laughed, his violet eyes dancing. He looked more his age like that, for some reason. Serious, but smiling.  
  
"It's a cloak, you silly twig of a boy." He told Ryou teasingly. "And you'll be needing it, if you want to rescue Bakura. It's white, so it will reflect heat when we're traveling. It'll be a long three days through the desert, until we reach my friend's house." He muttered, fetching a length of rope from under a mountain of laundry.  
  
Ryou blinked. "Oh!" He exclaimed, shifting the cloth in his arms. "And..the smell?" He asked, unsure and offended.  
  
"Mint leaves." Malik replied, cutting the rope in two. "Mint absorbs other smells. We'll need it."  
  
"I see...why, exactly, will we be needing it?" Ryou inquired uneasily.  
  
"Well, you see...our mode of transportation to the palace isn't exactly that of those damn aristocrats." He muttered, embarrassed. "We'll be taking a more...low-class ride."  
  
Ryou swallowed a lump in his throat. He had the distinct feeling that this was not going to be good. "And what's that?" He asked warily.  
  
"Fish cart."  
  
"WHAT?!"  
  
Malik looked at Ryou in embarrassed satisfaction. "Hey, just be happy I even managed to get us a ride at all. It's not like you can just walk in, you know." He rebuked Ryou softly. "We'll be hiding amongst our dead, aquatic friends for a while, until we reach the palace."  
  
Ryou sighed. "Ah. I see. I guess we really will be needing the mint leaves to hide the odour, then." He reasoned.  
  
"Hmmm." Malik nodded his agreement.  
  
"When are we leaving?" The brown-eyed boy asked the other. Malik tied a small bundle around his waist fastly, and pulled on his cloak. Securing it tightly, he helped Ryou do the same. He patted Ryou solidly on the shoulder. "We leave now. We shall be in the midst of our friend by Ra's retiring."  
  
They stepped out of the house and, setting a quick pace, began their walk to the riverside, to their ride.  
  
  
  
Yami watched the sleeping boy thoughtfully. Appraisingly. 'He looks different, somehow.' the multi-colour haired boy thought, resting his chin in his hand. 'A day out in the world can certainly change someone. He shan't escape again. Another break and he may not be able to stand coming back. Why, it's almost as if he didn't make it this time around. He's gotten weak. More stupid. Standing up to me. He must have taken something rotten while he was gone. Poor boy.'  
  
He walked over to the bruised figure and stroked the soft silver hair. "When you awaken, you shall rest for a moment's time. Then we shall continue." He murmured. The boy's face crinkled, and he shrunk away from the Pharaoh's hand. Yami laughed softly and bent down to place a feather- light kiss on his pet's swollen lips. "Sleep, Miw-Sher. Sleep. You'll need your rest."  
  
With that, Yami returned to his previous position on his bed, watching. And waiting.  
  
  
  
  
  
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[1]- The desert can reach wickedly cold temperatures in the night, for those of you who didn't know. There's nothing there to retain heat, so it can easily reach below freezing temperatures.  
  
[2]- The Egyptian belief was that one could achieve the Christian afterlife's 'Heaven' if they passed having their hearts weighed. A scale was used, with the heart on one side, and a feather on the other. If the heart was heavier, they were eternally punished. If the feather was heavier, they got to go to Heaven.  
  
  
  
Review. Feed a starving author. 


	6. Speed of the Desperate

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh or any of its characters. I am in no way making monetary gain from this fic. So don't bother trying to sue me.  
  
A/N: My apology for the long wait. I hope I'm not responsible for any aneurysms or high blood pressures. (My ego, ladies and gents, has inflated to the size of the better part of Egypt) I hope you enjoy this chapter. It just keeps getting sicker and stupider.....but don't be deterred. There's a little surprise (hopefully a good one.*is worried*) at the end of this chapter. Oh, and by the way; it's a landslide. Something perky this way comes. Yes, that's right; Yugi is imminent. He'll show up soon, okay (soon meaning the next chapter or two.)? Sorry to anyone who voted against him. *** I refuse to accept any flames about my incorrect placement of Jounouchi in the fic. So he was originally a slave....I decided to gift him with a position of power. He deserves it, really. He puts up with too much shit. ***I had the option of calling Kaiba either Seto or Seth (Seth being his actual name in Ancient Egypt). I opted for Seto. Just so I can laugh at him more.if you know what the name means. Nya-ha.  
  
Warnings: None here. Discover as you go along.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Ryou inhaled through his mouth and blanched as the salty smell of rotting fish rested on his tongue by way of the rank air. He coughed and brought a corner of his cloak up to his nose, breathing in. The peppermint soothed him and helped dissipate the terrible odour that was sure to stick to the two secret travelers, if their long ride ever was to end. Ryou was sure that they'd been trotting down the same trail for at least four hours. Malik kept assuring him that it had only been an hour at the most. Soon, they would be at their destination, Malik told him.  
  
"This...." Ryou coughed again. "Is vile." He whined. Surrounding them in the caravan was over a ton of smelling, stinking, rotting dead Nile fish. As the caravan hit a bump, a dead cod somehow managed to flop its way onto Ryou's lap, and he pushed it away with disgust. Malik sighed, looking none too happy occupying the space between two barrels of some creature that smelt particularly horrid.  
  
"Do you think I'm enjoying this, Ryou?" He spat, sounding a little bitter. "I'm sitting here in a fish wagon, on my way to the Pharaoh's palace---the bastard---where I'm a known----and not too well liked, if you know what I mean-face, and they'll probably embalm me alive if they catch me." He shuddered slightly at the thought, and then gestured to Ryou casually. "The worst Pharaoh will do to you is make you back into his personal slave. At least you'll get to live."  
  
Silence.  
  
"But none of that is going to happen, now is it?" Malik asked the silver- haired boy. He didn't give Ryou time to answer. "Because you should know your way around the palace-you do, don't you?" Ryou nodded. "Good. And those guards and sentries are amazingly stupid. We'll have no trouble finding Bakura and getting him the hell out of that place, will we?"  
  
"I guess not, when you put it that way." Ryou admitted. He knew he sounded unconvinced. He knew that he was probably going to start bawling his eyes out like an infant the second he reunited with Bakura.  
  
He knew that after they rescued Bakura, he would have to return to the palace. Because this was unforgivable. After Ryou's other friends had been killed by the Pharaoh; Ryou had been too stricken, too terrified to do anything but take the running chance that they'd sacrificed themselves to give him. And he'd escaped. But now....nobody hurt Bakura. No one was allowed to hurt Bakura. Ryou, though he didn't fully understand why, felt an incredible, untouchable bond to the other silver-haired boy. His clever, harsh ways. His sweet look that he got whenever a frown wasn't present on his pale face. And something that just made Ryou want to be by Bakura's side forever, and never be parted. That's what he felt for the other boy. And he didn't know what to call this collection of feelings.  
  
Ryou struggled with whether to tell Malik. Ask him what he was feeling. Malik was smarter than he let on, Ryou knew. But could he trust the sandy- haired, violet-eyed boy. The one who had taken him in with Bakura, fed him, guised him....flirted with him, yes, but still....  
  
Yes, Ryou decided. He could trust Malik.  
  
"Malik...?"  
  
"Hm? What is it?"  
  
"Could I ask you something?"  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Bakura stayed perfectly still. He was awake, and his muscles were hurting from forcing himself to freeze up, but he wasn't being touched, so it was worth it. He could feel his entire body screaming for him to seek help. Things inside Bakura were broken, ripped, and shredded, though he didn't know it. To him; it was all just one big ache.  
  
He could hear the Pharaoh humming absently to himself, waiting for Bakura to awaken. Well...he was easy to fool.  
  
Twice the High Priest had come in, droning on about some matter or another, occasionally starting in on a lecture before Pharaoh said something back, and forced the priest to stick to only important matters. To not bother him when he was with Ryou. Damn that Pharaoh bastard to a thousand hells.  
  
Bakura felt his cover was about to be blown before he knew it. A strange tingling sensation started at the bridge of his nose and worked its way down. Bakura scrunched his nose up, discreetly rubbed at it, but no success. It was inevitable.  
  
Bakura sneezed.  
  
Yami's attention snapped back to the real world from where it had been lingering in fantasies. He looked across the room at the silver-haired boy resting there, who was meeting his stare with huge, dark, panic-stricken eyes. "You were awake." Yami concluded flatly.  
  
"...." Bakura's mouth was slack. How much would that cost him? How much more suffering had he sentenced himself to by tricking the Pharaoh-the bastard that had his life locked away like some plaything in a toy box?  
  
Yami's crimson eyes narrowed and sparked dangerously. Bakura saw sadistic malice welling up in the Pharaoh's mind at that very moment. And as his own ideas hit Yami; he smiled. Sweetly, almost. The sort of smile that one gets when they've just come up with a plan for revenge, but it forces them to hurt someone they love. "How long were you awake? Estimate for me, Ryou."  
  
"A half stick." [1] Bakura whispered hoarsely, not taking his eyes off Yami, who started slightly.  
  
"That long? You were awake that long, and I didn't notice?" He mused, not really directing his speech at Bakura. "My, my, you've learnt a trick or two, haven't you? And you were only out for a little more than a day." Yami rose from his seat on the edge of the bed and began sauntering up to Bakura.  
  
Bowing obligatorily, though still on his knees, Bakura waited for the inevitable, impending blows. This was not a force to fight against. The Pharaoh was stronger than he looked, more powerful than Bakura had thought, and overall; the most malevolent person he'd ever met.  
  
".....I'm not going to hurt you, Ryou." Yami said, stopping only inches in front of Bakura. He sounded sick of himself. Bakura looked up through his bangs at the Pharaoh, whose eyes glazed over slightly. "You know I hate it when you get that kicked puppy look. I can't even touch you when you look at me like that." Yami spat sulkily.  
  
Bakura's eyes narrowed. A knife-sharp glint appeared in them, and he stood. Every muscle in Bakura's body protested the movement, and he stumbled slightly, but stood confidently once gaining his balance. Eye to eye with the Pharaoh-this evil man, this man who had forced Bakura to do unspeakable things, painful, humiliating, torturous things-was still, Bakura realized, just a man. Yes, he had control of the shadow monsters and their realm. And yes, he had control over the entire empire, and total power over Bakura's life, and every other life...but he himself was just as mortal as Bakura.  
  
"I hate you." He hissed.  
  
Yami crossed his arms over his chest. "Pardon, Miw-sher?"  
  
Bakura's hands balled up into fists. "I said that I HATE YOU!"  
  
Yami didn't even have time to flinch before Bakura's fist collided with his jaw. He stumbled backwards and fell to the floor, a hand to his jaw. Looking up at Bakura with wide crimson eyes in total shock, his hand slipped back down. A bruise was already forming. Yami could feel a tingling sensation where he'd been hit. He stood up slowly, readjusted his diadem.  
  
"Get on your knees, Miw-sher." He ordered quietly.  
  
Bakura growled, his fight, his stamina all rejuvenated. He was Bakura again. Tough, stubborn, untouchable Bakura. "No."  
  
"What did you just say?"  
  
"I said 'no', Pharaoh." He spat thinly. "This has gone on too long. Too long, do you hear me? Or is all that hair obstructing your mind's logic? You will not control me any longer. You will not beat me, rape me, injure me in any way; or so help me Ra; I'll skin you alive with your own damn dagger." Bakura ranted unstopped; Yami listening politely, an ugly purple bruise growing on his jaw. "I've taken my punishment."  
  
Bakura revealed an intricately carved dagger he'd pilfered from Pharaoh's collection earlier. "Now...you get on your hands and knees." He murmured with something akin to rage so strong that it wasn't even possible in the world of mortal men.  
  
Yami tilted his head slightly to one side. "You want me to get on my hands and knees for you?" He asked placidly. "You want to control me for a while, is that it?" He inquired politely.  
  
"Actually, I had my heart set on carving various profanities all over you, then maybe cutting off an arm or leg and using the bones to make a rather nice ankh....but what you suggested doesn't sound particularly unsuitable." Bakura admitted nonchalantly, fiddling with the dagger.  
  
"I'm inclined to prefer my own suggestion." Yami said flatly.  
  
"Oh? And you're in control here?" Bakura snorted softly in amusement. His eyes had lost their newly acquired dullness and had now become alive with an adrenaline-initiated rush. The kind that gives one God-like will and strength for all of about two minutes before leaving you where you were before. A last, desperate, false hope. "Fine. I'll make you wish I was cutting you apart with this knife. You'll still be bleeding. From the inside. And then you can realize the pain involved when something very delicate inside you is torn to bloody shreds." Yami's crimson eyes shone with bitter amusement. "Now, Pharaoh; on your hands and knees."  
  
Yami feel to his hands and knees without protest and looked up at Bakura. The chocolate-eyed boy stared at him in disbelief. "Well, Miw-sher, isn't this what you wanted me to do? What are you waiting for?" He asked in a silky smooth voice that was too sweet for Bakura to be unsuspicious of.  
  
"What are you doing......?" Bakura demanded uncertainly, hesitating.  
  
Yami laughed and shook his head in pity. "Poor Miw-sher....the outside world has changed you so much! You look different, act different...sound different. Even feel different." Yami looked up at Bakura smirking. "But you're divided right now, aren't you?"  
  
"What the hell...."  
  
"Half of you wants to destroy me. Break my mind, my body....everything. But another part-the logical, intelligent part......it tells you that I'm the only reason you're still alive. I could have killed you when I got you back, but I didn't. I like you, Ryou. And I don't like many people. I could have had you killed. Stabbed, bludgeoned, embalmed alive, if I had so wanted. But no......I still want you. I always will. And no matter what you do; you'll always be mine. And you know that, too."  
  
"...."  
  
"So do what you wish. If you kill me, how will you get out of the palace? Out of this room? A rotting corpse is going to make a wicked odour. It will attract attention." Yami reasoned. He was right, of course, Bakura knew. "But if you just punish me.....whip me, beat me, toy with me as you see fit, but still keep me alive and able to walk, then you'll still get revenge.....and still stay alive." He murmured silkily. Bakura's hand was trembling as it held the dagger.  
  
"You bastard." He whispered. His face contorted, and Bakura collapsed despite his best efforts. The desperate strength was gone. A defeated, grief-clouded haze glazed his eyes. "You bastard!!!!" He wailed, curling into a fetal position. Yami crawled over to him, pried the dagger from his shaking hand, and embraced him gently. Began rocking back and forth, and Bakura kept on wailing in fits of rage and sorrow and pain. Yami stroked his hair, his back, trying to comfort him. Eventually, he uncurled Bakura and looked at him kindly. With genuine concern, as one lover looks to another.  
  
"Oh, Miw-sher.....I'm sorry." He said, and kissed Bakura chastely on the lips. Bakura recoiled from the contact. Yami snarled, shook Bakura's shoulders. "LOOK AT ME!!!" He shouted.  
  
Chocolate eyes met crimson ones, and Yami kissed Bakura once again. "Ohhhhh, Ryou......" He moaned softly. Pushed Bakura onto his back against the cool floor. "You are so beautiful. It's enough to make me cry." He confessed, his hand wandering down Bakura's thin body. "So beautiful .....shh.....don't cry." He told Bakura softly.  
  
Bakura sobbed into his hands, tears trickling down the side of his face. Yami began stroking him.  
  
Bakura wailed, squirmed and wriggled, still crying into his hands. Yami continued. Forced Bakura to lie still, splayed out before him.  
  
"Shhh......don't cry."  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
"Love, Ryou." Malik said, as if it was the simplest thing in the world.  
  
Ryou paused for a moment. "Love?" He mused.  
  
"Yes, of course! What else did you think it could be?!" Malik inquired, gesturing emphatically with his gold-adorned arms.  
  
Ryou looked down at his hands. "Well, I don't know......I don't really know what love involves. Feelings, and that sort of thing."  
  
Malik looked at his silver-haired friend, concerned. The gold trinket presented to Ryou by Bakura only earlier that day jingled merrily to the bumpy ride, its pointers colliding harmlessly. "Never know love? Not even what it is?" He asked incredulously. Ryou nodded. Malik rubbed absently at his jaw, remembering a fracture he'd acquired not too long ago.....why Bakura had become so affronted about his comment, he didn't know. He thought silver was quite a regal colour.  
  
"Love is..well; it's what you feel towards Bakura." Malik informed Ryou, almost uneasily. The silver-haired boy smiled from ear to ear.  
  
"I really do love him. I thought my feelings were just stupid."  
  
"Not at all."  
  
"Malik....." Ryou trailed off.  
  
The sandy-haired boy sneezed, pushed a stray fish away from him. "Yes?"  
  
"Are their different kinds of love?"  
  
Malik blinked his large violet eyes at the question. Paused. "Well, yes, of course there are different types."  
  
"What are they?" Ryou asked curiously.  
  
"Uh..." Malik thought for a moment. "Well, there's true love, like the kind you hold towards Bakura-" Ryou smiled happily again. Malik smiled back. Ryou was almost unbearably cute when he smiled, Malik discovered. "And then there's love for family, love for friends, platonic love, passing love, possessive love--"  
  
"Possessive love?" Ryou interrupted. Malik nodded.  
  
"You know.....love of something you own. For example.....I love my archery set. Don't know what I'd do if I lost it." The look on Ryou's face told Malik clearly that Ryou was still curious. "Possessive love...it usually doesn't go away. You don't let go of the possession."  
  
Ryou considered this for a moment. "Can possessive love turn into true love?" He asked inquisitively.  
  
Malik blanched. "I should hope not. I don't love my archery set that way--- oh. OH." Malik suddenly realized the intent of Ryou's question. His violet eyes peered at Ryou gently, sympathetically.  
  
"He said he loved you, didn't he? Pharaoh told you he loved you..?" Malik asked softly. Ryou nodded, looked down at the floor of the caravan.  
  
Malik made his way over to the smaller boy's side and began rubbing his back comfortingly. "Ryou; you're not a possession." Malik told the silver- haired boy. "And what Pharaoh feels towards you is lust, not love. Never, ever think that you're bound by his love. He doesn't love you. He just thinks he does. He just lusts after you."  
  
"I know." Ryou whispered shakily.  
  
"Don't worry. He'll never touch you again. So don't worry about yourself."  
  
Ryou looked back up at Malik. His large chocolate eyes were shining with a determined, serious light. "I'm not worrying about myself! Not at all!" Ryou exclaimed. "I'm worried about Bakura and what Pharaoh is doing to him! Has done to him!"  
  
Ryou grabbed Malik's shoulders, shook him gently. "You don't know what he's like when he's angry! He'll beat Bakura to an inch of his life in this realm! He'll do terrible things! Terrible!" Ryou let go of Malik and slumped to the floor. Malik stared at him in frozen shock at the outburst. "I'm sorry. I just..the thought of Bakura being hurt....." He trailed off.  
  
Malik's violet eyes were downcast. "We'll get him back, Ryou. Alive and well, we'll get him back. And teach that Pharaoh a lesson, while we're at it."  
  
"No." Ryou said stubbornly. Malik turned to him in mild surprise at the set voice. "Bakura is our top priority. We get him out at all costs. Revenge is to be considered and dealt with after we have Bakura back. Alright?"  
  
Malik nodded, a smile slowly appearing on his tanned face.  
  
"What's so funny?" Ryou asked, unable to keep from half-smiling himself, his outburst forgotten.  
  
"Nothing, really. You just...you sounded so serious. So strong." Malik told him. A slight flush graced Ryou's pale cheeks.  
  
"You flatter me."  
  
The cart stopped. Both boys' faces suddenly became wary and alert. They listened carefully for any noise, and eventually heard footsteps approaching the caravan. "We're at the gate..." Malik whispered, sinking easily into the shadows of the caravan's corners. Ryou followed him and listened.  
  
Muffled voices wafted into the back of the caravan. It seemed ages that the cart driver and the gate guards talked, chit-chatting over small matters. Eventually, just before Malik was vaguely considering sneaking out of the caravan and making a run for beyond the gate; the sound of coins jingling stopped him.  
  
"Shokran (Thank you.)"[2] The driver said t whichever guard had given him his wage.  
  
"Ala elrahib wa elsaa (You're welcome)"[2-2] The guard replied good- naturedly. Malik and Ryou both rolled their eyes.  
  
A moment later, the caravan started up again with a jolt, trotting along smooth ground. Ryou and Malik moved to the front flap of canvas, awaiting their freedom. The cart stopped once again, and they heard footsteps approach them. "Ride's over, boys." The driver informed them with a cheery face as he released the canvas flap. Malik and Ryou gratefully breathed the clean air that rushed through the opening. They climbed down.  
  
"Your pay." Malik muttered, handing the driver a few gold coins. The driver bowed his head in thanks.  
  
"I wish you good luck. What you're here for-why you'd even want to come-I do not know. But you seem very intent on completing whatever mission you have here. So may the gods be with you." The caravan driver told them as he gathered the reins.  
  
"Many thanks for your blessings." Malik replied politely. "But one question..."  
  
"Yes?" The driver asked jovially.  
  
"Why do you travel with camels? Horses would be much faster!" He exclaimed. Ryou stifled a giggle.  
  
The driver laughed kindly. "True, true, I probably could have shaved an entire stick's time off this journey if I'd used steeds. But camels can last longer in the desert. They can stick a straighter course..and they're smarter than some finicky stallion." The driver reasoned, winking. Malik's face fell.  
  
"Fair enough." The violet-eyed boy responded dryly. "Farewell. May you be profitable in all your future endeavors...and may your camel die of dehydration. Irony is lovely." The camel made an agitated noise and spat at Malik, who jumped away from it. The driver laughed.  
  
"See? Smart creatures!" He called as he ambled away at the reins of his camel-driven cart. Malik swore under his breath.  
  
"We'd best get going." He said to Ryou, grabbing the smaller boy's arm through the thin white fabric of the cotton cloak. "Staying out here in the open is a little too dangerous, even for me." He confessed. Ryou nodded.  
  
"This way. I know a shortcut." The silver-haired boy informed the other.  
  
They walked off, trying not to draw attention, though the courtyard was deserted.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Yami's flaxen bangs brushed against Bakura's lashes when he blinked. Cool gold was warming against Bakura's skin, and he could feel the Pharaoh's body against his. Yami's fingers were intertwined in Bakura's hair, and his chin rested in the groove of Bakura's neck. With Pharaoh half on top of him, Bakura was forced to breathe shallowly. If someone had been able to lift the roof and look in on the two; Yami's position would have seemed both possessive and protective. Bakura's fingers twitched as he stared up at the story on the ceiling.  
  
It wasn't done..the story. It covered only half the ceiling, and stopped in the middle of a sentence. Bakura frowned. Pity. It was an interesting story. It seemed to actually be more of a series of things. Things written in riddles and old quotes and the old dialect. Bakura deciphered those parts as best he could. He sighed heavily, his lungs aching for a gulp of air instead of these pathetic little gasps he was taking. Pharaoh moaned softly in his sleep, and Bakura froze up.  
  
"Miw.." He yawned, his fingers twitched in Bakura's hair. "Sher....go to sleep." He murmured drowsily.  
  
'You dirty bastard..how can you sleep like this?' Bakura rebuked him mentally, huffing. He didn't go to sleep.  
  
"Relax..mmm, relax, relax, relax.." Yami murmured again, absently stroking Bakura's abdomen. The move caused the silver-haired boy's entire body to tighten in a reflexive motion. Bakura shuddered violently. The Pharaoh took this as a sign.  
  
Crimson eyes opened easily, a dozing fog lifted from them as Yami stared sharply down into Bakura's pain-dulled eyes. "What was that?" He asked mildly, his eyes at half-mast. Yami readjusted his position to better look directly at the boy beneath him.  
  
"Nothing." Bakura said hastily, eyes wide. "Absolutely nothing." He said again, trying to mentally ward off Yami's impending advances. Yami laughed softly and sat up, straddling Bakura.  
  
"You shivered." He observed confidently. He laughed again, but quickly returned his face to a neutral expression. "Hmmmmm," Yami hummed absentmindedly as he stroked Bakura's cheek.  
  
Bakura shuddered again, his body involuntarily responding to the feather- light touch. Yami looked seriously at him, with a solemn face. His scarlet eyes shot hot sparks of anger and passion. "I would smile." He informed Bakura sulkily. "I would laugh." He continued. "But it hurts to do those things now. This bruise hurts." He told the silver-haired boy vindictively. Bakura commended himself on his good right hook..though it had been a moment of madness. All of his attention was focused on the Pharaoh; straddling him casually.  
  
"You've never hit me before. Never. You're stronger than you look...physically stronger, that is," Yami amended thoughtfully. "Ra, but it hurts. ."  
  
Bakura's breath was forced out of him as Yami's fist was unexpectedly thrust into his already pained abdomen. He coughed and tried to coil up in reflex. Yami's arms held him splayed out. "You never hit me. Don't start now." Yami warned, caressing the side of Bakura's pain-contorted face gently.  
  
Trying to regain his wind, Bakura took gasps of air, the throbbing in his abdomen dulling to a low ache. Tactfully, gracefully, with a monarch's vain certainty; Yami captured Bakura's mouth.  
  
Exploring familiar-yet somehow different, Yami observed-territory, the Pharaoh coaxed the silver-haired boy into responding. As Yami's tongue caressed each contour of Bakura's mouth, Bakura closed his eyes as his own tongue hesitantly intruded into the Pharaoh's mouth. Bakura imagined it was Ryou.  
  
Yami felt Bakura's slender arms judiciously slide around his neck, loop around and clasp together. He smiled against his slave's semi-swollen lips. He slid off Bakura, allowed him to get to his knees. Torso against torso they kissed, Yami savouring this familiar meal with a new, somewhat spicy tinge; Bakura lost in his fantasy of Ryou.  
  
Forcing himself to come back to horrible, tortuous reality; Bakura snarled into Yami's mouth. Ignored. Another warning growl. Yami did nothing.  
  
A wicked idea, much like the braver Bakura would have, emerged in Bakura's fogged mind. Against the Pharaoh's busy mouth, he smiled his familiar smug smirk.  
  
Yami shrieked as his slave--his sweet, innocent, and demure little slave-- bit down mercilessly on his tongue. He released Bakura, pushed him back against the floor. A hand went to his mouth, and Yami could feel wet, slick, warm blood against his lips and fingers. On the floor, blood trickled from Bakura's smirking lips.  
  
"Damn you!" Yami cursed, spitting blood to the floor. He tentatively touched his tongue, his fingers bringing back blood. Unfortunately, Bakura noted, Pharaoh still had all of it. Ah well. Yami scrambled to his feet, a hand over his mouth. "Stand up." His muffled voice hissed.  
  
Still smirking, Bakura stood, his hands on his hips. He relished the moment as his mind became clear, defiant..unmistakably him, again. Bakura licked the blood off his lips, peered mockingly at the Pharaoh; a boy his own age, just as mortal, just as breakable.  
  
Yami laughed. From behind his hand, Yami let out an asinine, superior laugh, his sparkling eyes focused solely on Bakura.  
  
Bakura's nerve began to desert him. Had he driven the Pharaoh insane? Or had the bastard already been a raving lunatic beforehand? With each and every possible explanation, Bakura's resolve and self began to crawl deeper and deeper into the confines of his soul, placing a wall between themselves and him. The smirk faded from his lips, his poise became less certain. He did not want to have to deal with a maniacal, raving mad Pharaoh. He didn't think he could.  
  
Yami ran and embraced Bakura so suddenly that he didn't even see it coming. As the multi-colour-haired boy cuddled against him, Bakura's arms slid to his sides, his entire body frozen from shock. What, precisely, was he supposed to do in a situation like this, with a lunatic Pharaoh holding him in a fit of hysterical laughter?  
  
A pained hiss escaped Bakura as an excruciating sting suddenly hit the side of his neck. As he tried to twist out of the Pharaoh's grip, he noticed that Yami was no longer laughing. He was, however, seeming to enjoy licking the fresh, warm blood on his lips into his mouth. Going back to the wound for more, Bakura felt a warm tongue lapping at the liquid; his own blood. He began struggling harder, squirming and twisting, trying to dislodge the other boy who held him tightly.  
  
Yami stopped licking at the bleeding bite mark, letting himself judge the feeling of Bakura's body against his, struggling. He closed his eyes blissfully. "Yes." He murmured. "Yes, keep doing that." Yami encouraged the silver-haired boy softly. "That feels delicious."  
  
Bakura felt ill. He shrieked and shoved at the Pharaoh. The action surprised the other boy, and he fell unceremoniously to the hard floor. Bakura took a running dash at the heavy double doors preventing his escape from this torture. He was tantalizingly close.  
  
His fingertips brushed against the door handle, and Bakura could see his escape playing out before him. He tugged at the door, but was tackled before it could even open a crack. Bakura felt his entire body jar against the heavy wood, his head smack against a carving as stars flashed behind his eyes, and he could feel Yami's arms wrapped mercilessly around his waist, tugging him back. But his hand was wrapped tightly around the door handle, and he would not let go, not when he was this close!  
  
"Ryou," Yami grunted, tugging the silver-haired boy back towards him, "What do you think you're doing?" he demanded crossly. "Let go!" Bakura grasped the handle with both hands. He began crying, despite his own will not to.  
  
"No! I won't! Let me out!" He wailed, half in grief and half in rage. He kicked haphazardly at the pharaoh and hit him in the jaw, right where the purple bruise was. An undeniable rage flashed in Yami's eyes, and could see an urge for retribution developing in his cruel mind.  
  
Instinct clouded over Bakura's judgment. Letting go of the handle with one hand, he banged his fist against the door. "Help!" He yelled, as loud as he could with his sore throat. "Someone, anyone, just help! Please!" He shouted pleadingly, yet knowing deep inside him that it was hopeless.  
  
"Alright, Ryou." Yami snarled viciously. "If you want to be this difficult, then fine. You obviously just need a little lesson. Then you'll settle down. Come on. Let go." He ordered, his voice dangerously serene. Bakura kept on hanging on, and Yami gave one final, great pull on the silver- haired boy.  
  
Bakura screamed the scream of a suffering animal as his hand was ripped from the door handle.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Seto had cringed when the banging and wailing had begun. He could practically see it; Ryou, poor, bloody, pain-ridden Ryou clinging to the door desperately in a sad attempt at escape. And Pharaoh, pulling him back to a painful, passionate darkness.  
  
But when the cries had stopped.well, Seto had offered up a prayer to the Gods for Ryou's safety. Pharaoh was generally not an unkind person..but retaliation-especially from those whom he favoured-was inexcusable in his royal eyes. Seto hoped privately that Yami wouldn't hurt his poor slave too badly for the attempted escape.  
  
He himself rather fancied Ryou. He's only seen the silver-haired boy a few times in his life-Ryou had rarely been allowed out of Pharaoh's chambers-- but it was enough to set up a secret empathy for him. Ryou was a shy and delicate boy, who was smarter and stronger than he let on-or perhaps than he himself even knew. But Ryou had never before been so brazen...he was sure to be a bloody, achy wreck by the time Pharaoh decided to leave him be to recover, before resuming the routine. Seto shook his head and continued walking down the imposing cloisters, with its great view of the kingdom below, and in the distance.  
  
Seto disliked the idea and practice of slavery. It had not been too long ago-a year, perhaps less, that he himself owned a personal slave. An uncouth, strong-headed, yet beautiful young boy who had made Seto's life a living hell as often as he could. He knew how to get under the High priest's skin. But Seto had grown bored and guilty, and was actually glad when the boy had escaped. He had refused acceptance of another personal slave.  
  
Seto carried with him several hefty scrolls under his arm, which all contained records, of sorts. They were accounts of all recent foresights that Seto had been granted by the will of the Gods. They were disturbing.  
  
Pharaoh didn't know of them, and Seto wanted to keep it that way. Yami was sure to be unhappy if he ever uncovered the scrolls; all filled with visions of death and destruction, of the world being split into two immortal forces, and of the one star of the kingdom being swathed by a black dungeon of self. All of these were alien and perturbing to even Seto; who had devoted all his life to deciphering the messages of the deities.  
  
A sudden noise surprised the High Priest out of his reverie, and he started.  
  
"My apologies, High Priest Seto, if I disrupted you." A voice came from a branch-off of the great hallway. A figure emerged from the shadows, and Seto released a breath of air he hadn't realized he'd been holding.  
  
"Jounouchi," Seto sighed. "I thought you were supposed to be..." He trailed off.  
  
"Be where?" The blonde boy asked, cocking his head to one side. Though Jounouchi's face was serious, his ocher eyes smiled at Seto.  
  
"Anywhere but here." The blue-eyed boy muttered lamely, embarrassed. He shifted the scrolls from one arm to the other as the awkward silence settled on him and the entire hallway.  
  
Jounouchi smiled. "What's wrong?" He asked lightly. "You look like you're facing the god Osiris himself!" He noted. Seto forced a small obligatory smile. 'Oh, Jounouchi, if only you knew.' He mused thoughtfully.  
  
"Nothing is wrong. I just...I am pressed to return to my chambers. I have work to complete." Seto offered up the explanation hoping desperately that Jounouchi would take the bait and leave him be.  
  
Seto despised Jounouchi.  
  
Well, in all honesty, quite the opposite. It was the way Jounouchi made him feel that he despised. Whenever Seto was around the Chief Guard, his face flushed the hottest colour of red, his mouth and mind refused to work properly. He became a total idiot. Not at all the image he wanted Jounouchi to hold for him. "Work? Well, it seems you've got a lot of it. Perhaps I can be of some help?" Jounouchi proposed mildly, beginning to walk in the direction of the High Priest's chambers. Seto sputtered idiotically.  
  
"Wh-what do you think you're doing?" He cried out to the retreating figure. Jounouchi turned around to face him.  
  
"Maybe I can help you with some of your work. Organize things or some such occupation. At the very least, I want to help relieve some stress from you. You're always so uptight." Jounouchi told the other boy boldly. "Nobody should have to constantly be under stress. It'll catch up with you, Seto." The blonde boy said playfully, winking.  
  
Seto's eye twitched slightly, and he sighed. Jounouchi was making this too easy. This was scintillating opportunity smacking him in the face here. The Gods must enjoy teasing him. "Jounouchi," He began, unsure of how to place his words. "There is no such stress that you speak of to which you would be indifferent to in aiding me."  
  
A blank expression covered the other boy's face. "Huh?"  
  
"I don't want your help!" Seto blurted out the lie without thinking. The barrier he held towards the other boy sprang up, and insults began flowing freely from his tongue. "Why on earth would I want, or be in need of help from one of Pharaoh's lapdogs? You have the mind of a child, and the attention span of one, too. You don't even dress properly! What are you thinking; flouncing around in a common soldier's attire?! I don't know why you would even bother asking me if you could help with my work. And besides.." Seto shut his mouth, horrified at the string of abuse he was handing to this poor boy, who'd had but the best intentions. "You're the cause of most of my stress." He finished, finally letting the truth fall from his lips.  
  
Jounouchi looked hurt for all of about one second, before he flushed an angry red. "Well excuse me if I wanted to help out a friend! And I apologize if it offends you that I don't mind being near you, or dealing with your --incredibly boring, may I tell you-work, just so you won't be shut up in your room all alone every day!" He shouted, pointing accusatorily at the blue-eyed boy. "And I'm sorry if I'm the root of everything wrong with your life!" Jounouchi spat bitterly, stomping off huffily and leaving Seto alone in the imposing hallway, his arms weakly grasping the scrolls. What had just taken place, in that flurry of silver- tongued lies and outrage?  
  
'Seto, you fool. Now you've hurt him', he told himself. 'He'll hate you now, if he didn't resent you before.' Seto sighed and continued down the hall, wallowing in guilt and something akin to sorrow; an emotion he was all too familiar with, though one would be hard-pressed to know.  
  
A footstep from somewhere in the shadows made the High Priest jump once again. "Jounouchi, is that you?" He asked hopefully. No response. "I'm very sorry about what I said. Please, forgive me...Jounouchi?" He asked curiously. A figure emerged from the shadows, and Seto took a step back in surprise. "Who are you?" He hissed.  
  
Cunning violet eyes sparkled in amusement as they took him in. A simpering smile appeared on the stranger's caramel face. "A messenger from the Gods, High Priest." The boy replied confidently.  
  
"From the Gods?!" Seto exclaimed in disbelief, staring suspiciously at the strange boy. "Of all ways to send a message...the gods choose a skinny little street rat like you?" He mused aloud. The boy's face became dark.  
  
"If I were you, O High Priest; I would be careful of how I went about speaking to the gods' messenger. Insults are not the way to win me over, you know." He hissed darkly, crossing his hands over his chest.  
  
"M-my apologies."[3] Seto stammered. Such a strange and audacious boy...surely this could be no ordinary boy, having gotten through the palace gates unabated. This must truly be a messenger form the Gods.  
  
"If you're kind enough, perhaps I will tell you more than I should...perhaps I will help you." The boy enticed Seto with a confident drawl.  
  
"May I ask, if I may..why is that you are here? And how, pray tell, shall I address a messenger from the Gods?" Seto asked in awe, clutching the scrolls in his hand tightly.  
  
"How shall you address me?" The boy asked uncertainly, looking back into the impenetrable shadows. He paused for a second before turning back to Seto. "You may call me Namu."[4] He informed Seto easily. "And I am here to give you an important message, indeed."  
  
Seto waited in amazement.  
  
'This is too easy' Malik thought to himself in amusement. "I have been sent here, to you, High Priest, to inform you of an upcoming time of war."  
  
"War!" Seto cried in incredulity. "But there have been no wars for many years! The entire empire is peaceful! There have been no-"  
  
"Stop!" Malik cried, raising a hand to silence Seto. "None shall contradict the messenger of the Gods! There will be a war, yes......but it shall not reach the people." He said softly. "It will not go beyond those who dwell inside these walls, in fact." Malik gestured to the imposing cloister, where hieroglyphic columns supported the polished sandstone ceiling, making Malik's voice echo ethereally.  
  
Seto stood in silence as Namu continued solemnly. "Your Pharaoh has committed an awful deed; one that angers the Gods such that they must right this terrible wrong. Your Pharaoh and his allies shall collapse, and their agony will be known by all. A cry will rise from those who have impossible power, and the Pharaoh Yami shall fall. The guised shall be saved from the clutches of evil, and become as Gods. This is my message to you, High priest" Malik finished his speech in a murmur, complimenting himself on his visionary-like, persuasive lie. And on short notice, too.  
  
Seto's mouth was slack, he could not speak. Namu's words wrung true in his mind-they matched his visions precisely, and even made them clearer! "Tha..thank you, o messenger." He whispered to the violet-eyed boy. "Your memorandum shall be realized in the history of the world." He offered solemnly.  
  
Namu nodded his approval. "Good. Now, High priest Seto.." He walked up to the High priest, whose eyes widened in fear. "To deal with you." Namu said softly, looking up at Seto appraisingly.  
  
"Forgive my many sins." Seto whispered hopefully, sure that Namu would rip out his very heart right then and there for insulting him earlier. Namu laughed softly, and it was to Seto like the wind of the evening desert-cool and gentle.  
  
"You've no convicting sins to your name, High priest. My offer to you is to aid you." He informed Seto lightly, smiling a cleverly.  
  
"Help me? How?"  
  
"I can sense...that you are in ruins. Your soul is being shattered very slowly." Namu observed, looking suddenly very serious. "You are haunted by feelings of insecurity and guilt." Violet eyes bore deep into Seto's heart, and Seto felt that this odd boy before him was reading his very soul.  
  
"You feel that, should you allow the one you love into your heart, that you will hurt them." Namu murmured. Seto's eyes widened in shock. How could this boy know?! "You will not. He wishes only to help you, be with you...love is stronger than insecurity. And pain is, after all, an inseparable part of love. But you have suffered enough, and made him suffer enough. If you would simply be brave enough to open your heart to him, you would fill that empty void that is consuming you."  
  
The blue-eyed boy stared down into strong, inhumanely purple eyes in awe. "Is what you speak of true?" He asked hoarsely, almost in a stupor. Namu nodded.  
  
"Every word." Namu said. Seto continued to stare. "Well, what are you waiting for, a red flag?! Go and find him!" He shouted, cuffing the High Priest on the side of the head. Seto nodded and whispered a hurried thanks before running off.  
  
Malik sighed in relief and slumped against a limestone column. From deep in the shadows, Ryou appeared. "You're very good at improvisation." He smiled down at the sandy-haired boy. Malik smiled back.  
  
"A necessity for a 'skinny little street rat'." He replied a little crossly.  
  
"Why did you help him, though? I would have wanted to get away before he might figure out that you're actually not a messenger from the gods. He might have had you killed." Ryou said thoughtfully.  
  
"I helped him because he's in pain from his own love. He wants to be with the one he longs for. Nobody should have to be apart from their love for any reason, eh, Ryou?" Malik asked tenderly. Ryou smiled softly.  
  
"Of course, you're right."  
  
Malik pushed himself to his feet. "We should continue, before we're discovered..by someone who I can't lie to. I think I heard something from down the corridor." He added lightly, walking off. Ryou followed him, and both boys stuck close to the shadows.  
  
As the turned a corner, they both heard rapid footsteps coming towards them. It was too late to run back, they would be seen. Malik froze and tried to hide Ryou behind him as the footsteps came closer.  
  
"Malik, What do we do?!" Ryou whispered frantically.  
  
Malik said nothing.  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
End Chapter Six.  
  
_________  
  
Well, there you have it. Are you curious about your surprise? If so, scroll down. If not..well, then just review. Or do us both a favour and do both!  
I'M HOLDING A FIC CONTEST!  
  
Yes, that's right. Horrified yet? No? Good. If you're interested, read on.  
  
Rules/Regulations: All fics must be Yu-Gi-Oh, and only Yu-Gi-Oh. Please refrain from AUs and crossovers. Fics can be anywhere from 2-10 pages in length, size 10 print. Leniency is given, so if it's a little longer, that's okay. Must be yaoi/shounen ai. Het or yuri secondary pairings are fine, but the main coupling must be yaoi/ shounen-ai. Pairings are open to opinion. Due date for all fics is May 7th. No exceptions. Fics can be sent to dragon_chylde13@hotmail.com. All authors should include their ff.net name, their gender (if alias is unisex) and what genre their fic is. NO SELF-INSERTS/ORIGINAL CHARACTERS AS MAIN CHARACTERS. Please stick with actual characters, unless extras are needed for small parts.  
  
Requests: Please try to refrain from shotakon or incest, unless it's presented tastefully, and with good raison d'etre. I'm sorry, but there's little appeal in Mokuba being pleasured by Seto or Rishid and Malik getting it on*shudders*. But remember, in all honesty; I'm not against it! *sideways glance to KikuitadakixSakumo shrine* Hehe...^^' I humbly request that there be no pointless character deaths. (i.e.; Yugi being eaten by a shark while visiting an aquarium) If somebody has to die, make it worth it. No G-rated stuff. I'd like to not waste my time.  
  
Point bonuses: 1 POINT BONUSES ARE GIVEN IF: a) Handcuffs are involved  
  
b) FLUFFY handcuffs are involved  
  
c) Leather is involved (vinyl also acceptable)  
  
2) 2 POINT BONUSES ARE GIVEN IF: a) You get me laughing (and not because of your writing skills)  
  
b) A Yami (any yami) does something really stupid (e.g.: agrees to any sort of bet with Ryuuji)  
  
c) A Hikari (any hikari) is purposefully seductive  
  
d) Kaiba's the uke..to anyone.  
  
3 POINT BONUSES ARE GIVEN IF: a) The UST can be cut with a knife  
  
b) Millennium items are involved *nudge nudge, wink wink*  
  
c) Any sort of frilly skirt is involved  
  
d) Yugi's the seme (I'm going to regret that, aren't I?  
  
4 POINT BONUSES ARE GIVEN IF: a) Ryuuji is the uke to someone *grins*  
  
b) Two characters fight for who gets to be seme.  
  
c) The fic gives me a nosebleed (probably won't happen. I'm a veteran in yaoi/shounen-ai related matters. I've seen it all. I've read it all.)  
  
d) Jounouchi gets called a dog/dressed like a dog/treated like a dog, etc...  
  
e) All original names are used. (Dubs must die!) ***The dub 'Yami' may be used. In fact, please do use it. "Mo hitori no boku/mo hitori no Yugi" is just too long.  
  
5 POINT BONUSES ARE GIVEN IF: a) The fic involves a HikarixYami pairing (in that order)  
  
b) There's a rare/unique pairing (e.g.: BakuraxRyuuji)  
  
c) You scare me (not easy to do.)  
  
d) There are admirable insinuation techniques. (For those who've seen/read Yami no Matsuei, take for example...Muraki and the wine glass)  
  
e) I'm forced to use a mantra to keep reading.  
  
6 POINT BONUS: Yami Malik is the uke (willing or not) to someone OR Someone gets a taste of their own medicine (e.g.: Ryuuji is forced to put on cat ears and a tail and go 'nyan nyan' ('meow meow' in Japanese)  
Summary: 2-10 pages, yaoi or shounen-ai, due on the 4th of March, impress me.  
  
The Prize: The prize for the top fic will be the title of 'King/Queen/Pharaoh/whichever royalty you want of Short-Notice Yaoi fics' (non-patent) as well as a little thing of my own creation which I think you'll all like. I like to call it a Citrus Count.  
  
Citrus Count-everyone knows about the three main citruses, which stand for levels of *ahem* 'action' in a fic. Orange= Fluffy; huggles and kisses Lime= Vaguely described sexual scenes Lemon= Heaven for yaoi fans; vividly descriptive sex scenes.  
  
The winner of the contest gets to order me around by giving a Citrus Count on this fic! She/He can either send it as one lump sum (E.g: There must be a total of 4 BakuraxRyou lemons, 1 SetoxJou lemon, and 5 limes) OR chapter by chapter (E.g: Chapter 7 must contain one BakuraxRyou lemon, one lime, one orange). IT'S ALL UP TO YOUR DISCRETION. YOU'RE IN CONTROL.  
  
So enter! And have some fun!  
  
Ne, what do you think, minna-san? *worried* is it worth it? Tell me, and review this chapter, ne?  
[1] Remember; The Egyptians used incense sticks as measurements of time.  
  
[2/2-2] "Thank you"/"You are welcome" in old Arabic. It's the best I could do w/o the ability to use hieroglyphics.  
  
[3] *laughs uneasily* Sadly; they were that gullible, most of them. Kaiba should be no exception.  
  
[4] *shrugs* It was an easily-accessible alias.  
  
*** This chapter has many errors, and I know that. For some reason, things just aren't working out..  
Click on the box below and review!!!!! 


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